Too True
by Liquid-Goddess-Reformation
Summary: Naota has moved on from Haruko. Not even while putting up with his Boss Amarao, or helping out Kitsurubami at work, does she cross his mind. He can totally handle seeing her again, working with her even. Wow, is he deluding himself.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Furi Kuri or any of the characters and situations associated with it.

**Too True**

_By LGR_

Chapter One

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You'd think I'd be used to them by now. I see them almost everyday, try to ignore them everyday, fail miserably _everyday…_I don't think I've ever met anyone who didn't think he was a complete dufus wearing those things. I can't even begin to figure out what he thinks their supposed to do for him. Is it like an image thing? Or have they become so much a part of his identity, he can't shuck them even though people break out into epileptic-esque twitching fits just from looking at him?

I know he has to make sure no one can use his N.O. channel and toss a micro-bomb through his head—because that's what it would have to be, something along the lines of a micro-bomb, to fit through his N.O.—but I've got these neural scramblers that stick onto your temples and they work just fine, not to mention aren't really noticeable because the all-over-the-place way my hair is cut, covers it up for the most part.

He just looks so _dumb_…

Maybe if someone would just have the courage to tell him he looks like a dumb ass with those things on, he'd get rid of them? Maybe if some jerk just went up to him one day and said, "What the fuck is up with your look, dude?" He'd finally take a hint?

Maybe…

"Amarao, those eyebrows make you look like a fuck ass," I tell him.

The older man sitting across from me chokes on his bread stick and then goes on to perform an overly elaborate death sequence that isn't in the least bit believable. I sigh and slouch down into my seat at the Bistro on the corner across from the DII.

People are looking at him funny. This might be a problem if his eyebrows didn't automatically make people look at him funny. I couldn't blame them, he was a funny guy. His jokes sucked, but he sure was funny-_looking_. And the thrashing on the floor could be construed as humorous. If you overlooked how incredibly random and retarded it was.

The appeal, if there ever was any to begin with, had worn off long ago, however. I don't know how many times I've seen this happen. Quite a lot I'd imagine.

I can't help sighing again, as I stare at the red-haired man with freaky eyebrows in a business suit, pretend-gasping for air on the ground. I groan and sink so low in my chair I can barely see over the damn table.

To think I'd thought insulting him was a _good_ idea. Now that I think about it, I vaguely remember having this thought process before. And acting upon it. Repeatedly.

Oh well. Maybe one day it'll work…

And maybe one day I'll turn into a frog and go live in the underwater kingdom on Tarceros prime…

…Right.

Suddenly, Amarao is back in his seat and pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose self-consciously, saying, "Naota-kun, is that anything to say to your Boss?"

Now _that_ was a funny question. I almost laughed.

I raise my eyebrow and caustically say, "It's not like you're going to fire me."

He gets all huffy and indignant, and his eyebrows do that thing where they start spazzing out. It's hard to describe. It pisses me off, though. Makes me want to rip them right off his face. I bet they're epoxied on.

Amarao's kind of ticked right now, but I hardly notice. "I could fire you if I wanted to!" he argues loudly.

I roll my eyes. "No you couldn't," I say automatically. I think we've had this conversation before, too. It's like my life is an endless series of repeated conversations. Stupid, mundane and pointless conversations…

"I _could_!" he declares in a whiny, wavering tone that says he's really just trying to convince himself. Because he knows he couldn't. Knows I know that he couldn't. He just has some sort of complex where he always has to be right. Or something. I'm no psychoanalyst. I don't know what the hell kind of syndrome he's got.

He's definitely got one, though.

"Sure, you could Amarao-sempai," I droll moving the croutons on my plate around indolently, trying to arrange them into shapes. I had a nice flower going on in one corner. Or it could have been a sun I guess. Can't really say which I was going for.

"I definitely could…" he mumbles to himself, but I ignore him. I brake up the flower/sun and start making triangles and squares.

Wow this is boring.

I can't help sighing world-wearily, sitting up in my seat enough to lean an elbow on it, as I lay my head in my left hand and let my gaze drop to a spot somewhere to the side, not really looking at anything. Amarao's got his chin on his right hand staring up somewhere at the sky behind his dark shades. He's always staring up at the sky. I asked him why, once, and he said he was just keeping a lookout for alien invasions.

He wasn't kidding, and I didn't laugh.

"When the hell are they going to get here with the rest of our food?" I grumble, even though it hasn't really been that long. It's just something to say.

_Eyebrow twitch,_ "They've got to go kill the cow," he says. I think it was supposed to be a joke.

I frown at him, "It was a Turkey sandwich."

_Double eyebrow twitch,_ "They've got to go kill the Turkey," he corrected himself.

"Yeah, guess so," I say apathetically.

_Eyebrow twitch._

I feel my face spasm.

…those _eyebrows_…

"So, Naota-kun," he begins talking. I hardly notice. I'm too busy trying not to stare at his goddamn eyebrows…

"How's that one girl you were with?" Amarao continues, "What was her name…Samejima Mamimi was it?"

Oh god. He is _not_ bringing this up…

I stare him straight in the eye, and give him that look that you give people when they just said or asked something stupid or dead obvious. "Amarao-sempai," I begin dryly, "I was never _with _Mamimi. Besides that was like ten years ago. She's got her own life now. She's a photographer. Making a name for herself and all that crap," I explain. Why the hell was he asking this stuff? Amarao just makes no sense sometimes. Or most of the time.

"How about your brother? How's he doing?" Amarao asks immediately after I finish talking.

I give him a guarded look, but he doesn't make any sort of movement to indicate to me what he's up too. Even his eyebrows are still. Amarao could be a tight-lipped bastard when the situation called for it. He might be a moronic eyebrow-maniac, but he wasn't Commander of the Department of Interstellar Immigration, the DII, for nothing. Every once in a while he even managed to do his job.

Shrugging, I lean back in my seat and cross my arms behind my neck, watching Amarao cautiously, "Tasuku-oniisan came home for Christmas last year with his wife. Having a professional major league baseball player as a brother is kind of nice. Gives expensive presents…"

"I'll bet," he responds almost indifferently, still looking at the sky. He doesn't say anything else for a moment, he seems to be thinking about something, and I let him.

The distant sound of a factory horn echoes across the landscape from the Mabase Medical Mechanica plant across the river, but we've heard it so many times, we're used to it and scarcely acknowledge it. If I bothered to look up, I'd probably see a fountain of steam pour over the earth, shrouding the town in clouds and fog. But I don't look up. Nobody looks up. Because it's just business as usual around here. So common and familiar as to be unimportant.

The organization Medical Mechanica—the technology entrepreneurs who had it in their sights to buy up planetary real-estate, brainwash its inhabitants, and eventually achieve Galactic Domination, was '_unimportant'_. Of course we were humans, so it wasn't like it would take that much effort to brainwash us. Call it discrimination against developing-races, but it was the truth.

Medical Mecchanica: their iron-like structures smoothing out the ridges in the universe, slowly but surely removing the ridges that our brains use to think and process information.

It was beneath notice.

I sit up, and this grabs Amarao's attention and he stops gazing at the clouds and turns to me. I'm not really sure who I'm frowning at, Amarao or myself for thinking so depressingly, but I turn to my boss, look him dead in the eye and say "What the hell are you asking me these question for, Amarao-sempai?"

I can't be sure with his sunglasses on, but I think he squinted a little before asking, "What about your dad? And your grandfather? How are they doing?"

I give him a look that says I'll play along but you better get to the point fast, or else I won't be the nicest person to be around…not that I was ever the nicest person to be around.

"Had dinner at the house the other day," I respond, "Dad's still publishing his 'zine. Grandfather's still ecchi. Canti's been upgraded, but other than that not much has changed." Yeah, status quo and all that…

His eyebrows twitch and I try to ignore him. I really don't care if he wants to make a fool out of himself, he does it all the time anyways; it's just that…those eyebrows are just so irritating!

Amarao goes on, apparently without noticing my discomfort, "How about that girl from your old school? The journalist. Ninamori-san."

I'm so busy glaring at his eyebrows, I have to take a second to think and remember what he'd just said before answering, "She still keeps hitting me up for insider info into Medical Mechanica and what the DII is doing, so she tries to arrange to run into me at least once a month or so."

Amarao chuckles, "Sure that's the only reason?" he raises those damn eyebrows suggestively. He's secretly as much a pervert as my grandfather. This is proof.

"Of course," I answer definitively. I've been frowning, but I frown deeper. I think we've had this conversation, too. It's not one I'm fond of. Where does he get this crap?

"Riiiiight…" he says. It's in the same tone I used earlier to say _"Sure you could Amarao-sempai"_. I suddenly realize how patronizing it is, and don't particularly like it being used on me. 'Course I can't really complain. Hell knows I'm still going to use it in regards to him.

"It's not like that," I say one more time, and I start to sound whiny but I can't help it, that's just the way my voice is. And no matter what Amarao says, it's the truth. Besides, it's hardly _my_ fault that he shovels all the PR for our department onto me. Otherwise it would be some other poor shmuck that Ninamori-san got to hound for news statements. She just wouldn't have as much ammo for blackmail, extortion and embarrassing memories from childhood to use against them. Lucky her.

Amarao still doesn't look like he's buying it. I care, but not enough to do anything about it, so I don't keep arguing. He's going to believe what he wants to anyways, he always has.

I sigh melodramatically, lean back in my seat again, letting my neck hang limp over the back of the chair and rub my temples, maneuvering my fingers around the neuro-wave scramblers.

"_Why_ the hell everyone I know is so goddamn _perverted_…" I sigh without finishing the sentence. They really are perverted. It's true.

Amarao is not paying attention, but that's okay, I didn't really expect an answer anyways. It was rhetorical. Instead he starts talking again. "What about Raharu?" Amarao continues, "You hear from her?"

I have to think for a second on who he's talking about, "Raharu? You mean…" Something clicks in my mind and I'm temporarily stunned, I say "You mean Haruko…" without even realizing it.

"Yeah," he pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose again, even though it doesn't need it, "She contact you?"

Contact me? Why the hell would she talk to me? The correct answer is she _wouldn't_. Besides, if a communiqué came from space we—meaning the DII—would have picked up on it. I wouldn't have been able to receive it without them noticing. Without us noticing. Whatever.

"No," I scrunch my eyebrows (mine. real ones.) together and fix my so-called-superior with a dark, heavy look. "Why? Why would she?" I ask him suspiciously. I get the feeling he's about to accuse me of something. Yeah, I can see it.

Amarao thinks he's going to play it cool with this one. He tries to act all casual; like throwing her name out in a conversation is something we do all the time. You'd think it would be. We both had similar encounters with her. It's a point of mutual interest. Sort of. But no, we didn't talk about her.

"Just wondering…" he trails, looking at a bird pecking at some crumbs on the ground of the table outside the Bistro. For the second time I wonder when our food is going to be here. It kind of _is_ late, now.

"No. You're not just wondering, Amarao-sempai. What the hell's going on?" I ask as seriously as I know how to. If he tries to avoid it again, I'm going to be royally pissed. Amarao is always hiding important shit from everyone in our department. Shit that pops up later to bite us in the ass.

He doesn't look like he's going to cave, and I almost feel sorry for him, because I'm about to turn not-nice. Amarao gives me a your-being-difficult expression, (which is ironic considering the one who's being difficult isn't me but him), before sighing and repeating, "Nothings going o—"

"Damn it, don't lie to me!" I yell, and Amarao jumps in his seat in an exaggerated startle reflex and his sunglasses slip down his nose to reveal him looking at me with wide eyes as I berate him, "Is this about that meeting you had with the Galactic Space Patrol?" I demand to know, "Is it?"

Yeah, you know that thing called anger? This is the stage that comes after that.

"No, no!" Amarao denies it nervously, wearing a grimace, but I can see it in his face. In the way his eyebrows are twitching maniacally. In his stupid dyed-red-hair…

…Actually he looks kind of okay with red-hair, but don't tell him I said that.

"You're _lying_ again…" I growl at him, and I'm right, but a waitress approaches our table so I have to at least be semi-courteous. Or not murderous, at the very least. She sets our food down on the table and we say thank you and I wait till she's out of earshot before continuing with my interrogation.

Amarao is eating this salad with bits of chicken and this weird sweet dressing. Looks awful tasting. This isn't the first time we've been to this restaurant, but I don't remember seeing that thing on the menu. I don't really know much about…bistro, that's Italian right? No, that's not right. Well, whatever. Don't know much about it. My culinary experience mostly revolves around the many flavors of instant curry and soba, and the bread at our bakery, but I guess I can't eat Japanese instant-cooking and baked goods all the time. Gotta branch out on occasion. Leastwise, that's what everyone tells me.

As said before, I have this turkey sandwich-melt-panini-on-chabatta type thing. But I'm paying it no mind; I'm mostly just giving Amarao the evil eye as he tries to avoid looking at me by shoveling salad into his mouth without glancing up from his plate. He feels the scowl, though. He's getting squirmy.

_I am Naota_, I project to him via my non-existent telepathy, _Fear me_.

Amarao finally puts his fork down and looks up from his plate. I can see the bastard is about to give in, so I don't say anything as he apparently sifts through his would be explanation, probably trying to figure-out how much he can leave out without getting caught. As you may have noticed, I have no qualms about sticking it to the man. Even the boss-man. Especially the boss-man. Even more especially the boss-man if they are Amarao. And my form of sticking it involves a lot of yelling and name-calling. And the type of language that parents would think twice before allowing their young children to be exposed to. Violence is a big one on my list, as well. I think it's all the paint-balling and air-soft gun fights I used to get into in my wasted youth.

But then again, Kitsurubami is even heavier on the violence than I am. I'll use a punch or kick, and maybe a pistol for intimidation purposes, but she could kick my ass, and I'm definitely not a push over. Plus, her firearm collection is _way_ bigger than mine. She has a flame-thrower, of which I am envious. I've only got a couple handguns, semi-auto and auto, a pump-action shotgun and a long range scope rifle. And some grenades, but they are in a safe, and they are there only for emergencies. That means I can't chuck them around whenever I jolly-well feel like it. It's too bad; they make a satisfying boom-noise, along with the rush of displaced air and projected shrapnel.

Very dangerous.

Which is why they have a safe. (The guns have a safe too, but you can't use a gun if they're in a safe. And you do use your gun more than you'd expect in this job. Way more. And besides, no kids living in my apartment; no one but me, in fact. And my security system is very good, so no one is going to stumble in, pick them up and decide to play Russian-Roulette.) Grenades aren't nearly as dangerous as missile launchers, however. And Kitsurubami has one in her office closet. Very convenient thing to have laying around if your fellow staff-member is being a jerk.

Of course, I've never seen her half as mad as I seem to be on a regular basis. And if she beats you up it's usually because you're an alien and she's about to deport your ass. If I beat you up there's that chance that you're an illegal alien, but more likely it's probably just because you're being a slacker, an asshole or you're Amarao.

Actually those three conditions are so similar as to be identical. Forget I mentioned it.

Yeah, I'm sort of the office bogey-man. If you're slacking or generally being a pain in the ass, people threaten them with me. I'll sic Lieutenant Nandaba on you, they say. Said slacker or irritant will usually pale and straighten up. It's actually pretty entertaining. If they _don't_ straighten up, well…I'm sure you can imagine. I sure as hell don't need a megaphone to project my voice, the DII issued Baretta 93R isn't just for decoration, and the headlock maneuver is your friend. Or mine, anyway. When _I'm_ the one performing it, that is.

This being so, Amarao would definitely think twice before he said anything: If I didn't like the answer, there would be hell to pay.

"Naota-kun…" he began cautiously, "Do you…remember much about the situation with Raharu?"

I blink. Very slowly. The kind of blink you give someone who just said something _really_ stupid. The blink I give Amarao nine times out of ten when he addresses me.

"That is a really vague question," I inform him, "Not to mention a retarded one."

Of course I remembered. How could anyone forget someone like Haruko, especially when they turned your life around as much as she'd done to mine? There wasn't a day gone by that something didn't remind me of her or something we'd done together. She was the main reason I'd even taken this job.

Originally I'd been into science and technology, being part of the Dept. of Interstellar Immigration hadn't even been a wayward thought of mine. I knew the DII were keeping an eye on me. Kitsurubami and Amarao even showed up in person to talk to me every once in a while, not that I was ever very cooperative. Our conversations usually consisted of them trying to ask me about my life and what I had been doing lately while I just named off the types of bread we sold, treating them like particularly picky and stupid customers until they got tired of it and they just left.

Even if the incident with Medical Mechanica hadn't taken place, they still would have monitored me if they'd ever realized that he had a strong N.O. channel. Since I both knew somewhat-sensitive info _and_ was a potentially dangerous way for an alien to instantaneously transport itself or, say, a giant death-bot, or a starship loaded with weaponry or even a teaspoon of neutronium that was dense enough to go straight through the earth's core and out the other side, thus destroying our planet, well, obviously they aren't just going to forget about me.

Like, I'd mentioned earlier, I'd been into science and I knew a lot about alien tech. After college I was expecting to do something like lab work or maybe get hired on at a university, when Kitsurubami approached me about working for the DII I hadn't wanted to hear about it all. For one thing, I didn't know why they would want Nandaba Naota working for an organization that was mostly about Police/Military work when I was a geek and not really the first guy you think of to take on the alien invaders, if there ever were such a thing to begin with. For another, Kitsurubami and Amarao would be there _everyday_, and Amarao's extremely annoying personality and appearance aside, they both reminded me of Haruko, who was someone I was trying to pass of as a good dream, but nothing more.

I really didn't want the job. The salary made me consider it.

Yes, it's good. Very good. There is a reason that Amarao can afford to wear a different suit every day of the week.

But don't think I did it for the money. Because at that point I still wasn't going to do it. But Kitsurubami is more manipulative than people realize, and she conned me into trying it out. Mostly by saying how there was always that chance that I'd see Haruko.

I don't know why that did it. I'd been trying to forget about her, even if I was sucking at it. But it did work, and I kept thinking that I wasn't any different from Amarao. I was still trying to hold on to someone who I had never had in the first place. The only difference was that I was actively fighting her memory, even if I was failing miserably, and Amarao was doing nothing of the kind. He idolized her, and it bordered on pathetic.

So, the next day I showed up at the DII building and followed Kitsurubami in with whispers trailing behind about how I wouldn't last a week. That was pretty much a unanimous guess by the entire staff. It was still up in the air, however, whether I'd quit first or Amarao would fire me. It didn't really bother me and I wasn't nervous; I think I was still hoping/expecting that I wouldn't have to take this job, that I'd get fired within the first day.

I think everyone, including me, realized by the end of the afternoon that I was here to stay.

I didn't even ask about Amarao's eyebrows, I filled out the paperwork correctly on the first try; I was called in to give the tech dept. a lecture on alien technology, told Amarao to get his own damn soda, and felt no remorse whatsoever at talking back to my boss.

By the next day, everyone was already coming to me with their many problems, sometimes technical, other times social. It irritated me, but considering it was sort of my job to fix those problems, I did, and they generally stayed fixed which, according to just about everyone, hadn't been the case until I was hired. I found this very pathetic.

Sadly enough, I also became the guy you went to if you wanted Amarao to do something but didn't have the balls to interact with him directly yourself. You wanted Amarao to do that paperwork you gave him last week? Talk to Naota-kun. You wanted Amarao to stop bitching at 120 decibels in the hallway? Talk to Naota-kun. You're late at handing in your work? Give it to Naota-kun instead.

(And since I am one of the few people in the department in their early twenties, they just had to tack on that –kun. I don't bother getting irritated anymore, it isn't worth it.)

Course, that last one wasn't a sure bet anymore. I get just as mad as Amarao does, if you don't finish your work on time. It's hard to say which of us is scarier. Lately I haven't been getting many _late-work-turn-in_s, and have been getting more _shut-up-Amarao_s, so I think most people have started opting for braving Amarao instead of me. I'm rather proud of this, actually.

And my boss doesn't even bother getting mad at anything I say anymore. He's realizing it isn't worth it, and we both know I'm not going to be fired. He generally listens to me when I tell him to shut up or stop acting stupid. I feel like I'm slowly but surly training Amarao into being able to behave properly in public. I think everyone was the most surprised at this.

Amarao quirks an eyebrow at me, smiling to himself behind his sunshades as if I was amusing him somehow, but I'm not really sure what he's finding funny about this situation. It's not funny at all. I frown at him to make sure he knows it.

"What I mean to say is…" he finally began, sighing, taking of his sunglasses, and folding them up, hooking it on his shirt, "Something has happened that pertained to that incident."

"Uh-huh…" Truth is, I'd kind of guessed that from the earlier question. Didn't make me any less curious, though.

"You know what Raharu was, right? You know why she was here?"

I frown, "She was a Galactic Space Patrol Secret Agent and her mission was to break out ol' Atomsk the Pirate King from Medical Mechanica's greedy clutches, what of it?"

"Do you know why she in particular was sent?"

This is stupid. I had asked because I'd wanted answers, not so I could play twenty questions with this big-browed freak.

"I thought _I_ was supposed to be quizzing _you_, not the other way around…" I mumbled, looking away in irritation.

Amarao snuffed, looking kind of offended, "Well, I guess you don't want me to tell you anything then…"

"—Because she can manipulate N.O. channels, and they needed the use of an N.O. channel to bust Atomsk out semi-discreetly," I hurriedly answer. Considering Amarao hadn't planned on telling me anything to begin with he was entirely likely to stop at any time for any reason. What a jerk.

"_And_ she was Atomsk's partner," he added with a shrug, "But otherwise, yes. Now, the reason they needed to do it _discreetly_ was because…"

Why was he asking all these questions? A lot of these answers I hadn't figured out until I was older and started paying attention to the Stellar News. I'd sort of pieced it together from what I remembered and a little of what Amarao told me. And I hadn't really done it on purpose, I've actually been trying to pay as little amount of attention as I can on outer space and still be well informed, I don't want to hear anything about Haruko. It's a delicate balance.

"Was because…" I think about it, but I really haven't a clue. "Was because I-don't-know," I finally tell him.

"Okay, let me explain. You see, Medical Mechanica is the owner of vast amounts of Galactic real-estate. They own whole countries, whole planets. They govern just about anything not belonging to the Stellar Coalition, (or not anything that has enough power or influence to want to bother them, anyways). Well, not being a part of the Stellar Coalition, obviously they don't necessarily follow the same laws that the SC instills in its member-governments.

"As to why Atomsk was there in the first place," Amarao said "Atomsk used to be a criminal but the GSP caught up to him and granted him a pardon if he helped them out and became a GSP agent: using his power for the side of good, so to speak. The alternative was a death sentence. He's not stupid, he took the job.

"Now, the SC was very aware of Atomsk's movements. They had to be: he was an extremely powerful N.O. field emitter. He was dangerous. He could steal whole planets using his N.O. channel. The very fact that he was monitored so closely was probably what kept Medical Mechanica from jumping him and shuffling him off to one of their facilities at first; the GSP would know about it and spread it around. As Medical Mechanica is trying to set itself up as this beloved Organization of the future with safety and security and honesty and all that bullshit, obviously it doesn't want something like that getting around; they want everyone to think they're the good guys. It's part of their draw. Part of their big plan to brainwash the universe into thinking it should be their government.

"Getting back to the Pirate King. Once Atomsk was a part of the GSP, he was sent on missions to spy and steal technology and information, and this actually put him in a situation where they could legitimately take him. They caught him stealing sensitive information, therefore he had violated a law, and he was at their mercy. So they took him, and legally the SC couldn't do anything about it unless they wanted to start a war, which would make them look like the bad guys, not to mention kill like a bijillion amount of people. Aliens. Whatever. Not that they really cared about that, anyways.

"What Medical Mechanica wanted with Atomsk still isn't very clear, although the GSP assumes they wanted to take advantage of his N.O. channel in some way, which is the obvious conclusion. They pretty much tried to brainwash Atomsk into being part of their happy Neo-Universe of love and peace and shit movement first, before they were going to divulge anything important, which is smart on their part but sucks for us; Atomsk doesn't know anything."

It was a lot to take in. On some level I'd known most of it, but still, having it plastered in front of my face was a little intimidating. After a moment of processing all of this, I realized something.

I give Amarao a _'come _on_, dude'_, look.

"Did you even answer the original question?" I ask him shaking my head, knowing already that the answer was no.

Amarao thought about it, his eyes squinted looking off somewhere, "Umm…I don't remember. What was the original question?"

"Why the GSP needed to get Atomsk out discreetly." I remind him.

"Oh, well, so it didn't get out to the general public that one of the GSP's people had been caught doing something naughty, obviously. It would really encourage doubt in the SC, conversely making Medical Mechanica look really good. Good enough, maybe, for some to change sides.

"Equally so Medical Mechanica doesn't want the populace to know about the giant death-robots that they've got lying around, ready to demolish the Stellar Coalition or whoever at their whim. It would really put a kink in the whole Kumbaya-shtick they're trying to sell. It's a Mutually Assured Destruction sort of thing. The information each has could destroy the other, but if one of them uses theirs, the other will release their own info, so in order for it not to get out, they're both holding back."

At this point I'm just about tired of the little trip down memory lane, not to mention the lesson in political bullshit. "Thanks for the info, Amarao," I say, "But can we hurry up and skip to the part where you start making sense? What does this have to do with the present?"

We really needed to speed this along if we were going to be back at the DII before lunch was over. Considering I was with the boss, I wouldn't get in trouble, but I always felt uncomfortable when I knew I should be working and wasn't. No one else at the DII seems to have this problem by the way. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one concerned about our productivity rate.

Meh, I probably am.

Amarao just nods and continues with his diatribe, "Well, as you know, the Earth is considered an underdeveloped society, evolution and technology wise, but we're very quickly reaching a point where we can function in galactic politics and economics. When this occurs, and we're officially inducted into the Stellar Coalition, we'll be the only SC-member planet with peaceful relations between ourselves and Medical Mechanica, which is unheard of and creates an awkward situation. It's like we are both part of Medical Mechanica's Empire _and_ the Stellar Coalition. Earth is one of the very, _very_ few neutrality zones. It's been suggested that Earth might be a good place to set up some sort of permanent outpost to keep a watch on them—"

"—so their starting early," I realize, "They're going to start setting up a GSP station."

"You got it," Amarao confirms.

I frown at him, "I don't see why you're all worked up about this…" I tell him.

The truth is, the GSP does its own thing, pretty much whether we like it or not, and it's got space stations all of the damn solar system already. They are always butting in on our jurisdiction when it's least wanted, and putting their hands up saying 'not mine' when we actually need them around. A station on Earth won't really change much. Except maybe make it easier for them to hear us grumble about everything.

Amarao stared me down, "They want us, the Department of Interstellar Immigration, to sort of fuse with them. So we'd be GSP special agents, and our jurisdiction would be Earth, the Sol System, maybe Epsilon Eridani and the Space Station orbiting Sirius, and practically anything Medical Mechanica related."

…wow. That was big news. Not to mention a little random.

I snuff, "And these are the same guys who kept referring us to primitive primates…but as soon as we're useful we're all of a sudden their best buds." I sigh, "They just don't want to have to invest money and resources into training their own people."

My Boss nods, "Yeah, the abrupt change of heart kind of pisses me off too, but that's just how the SC is."

"Fucking bureaucracy…"

Amarao shrugged, "Them's the breaks."

I chuckle slightly; Amarao doesn't typically use fun phrases like that. That's usually my department.

"Too true." I agree, slight but sincere smile gracing my face for probably the first time today, "So now what's _really_ bugging you?"

Amarao looks startled; he hadn't thought I'd realize this wasn't all that was going on. He'd been hoping I'd be particularly stupid today or something. Hah—request denied!

"What?" he asks, trying to look innocent. I give him a '_heh, yeah, I'm not stupid_' look.

"Don't play dumb," I tel him to reinforce the look, "You aren't as stupid as you seem," I screw up my face, as if thinking about something, then admit, "Well, most of the time, anyway."

Sometimes he really is as stupid as he looks. I know it's hard to believe, but Amarao manages it. He's just that talented, I guess.

He frowns at me . "Gee, Naota-kun, thanks. It's good to know you have so much respect for your boss," he says, voice just dripping with sarcasm.

It's just funny to see Amarao trying to pull off an '_I'm a cynical loner with a bad attitude_' routine. He just doesn't have the hair for it or something. I don't know. All I know is, that you look at him, and you can tell his mind is full of rainbows, sunshine and little bunny rabbits. For some reason it's only SC, GSP or Medical Mechanica crap that can chase of the sunglow for any length of time. But damn do they, kill his mood. I don't really get it.

Either way, his '_I'm a cynical loner with a bad attitude_' act needs work. He should just stick with his, _'I'm your crazy, temperamental boss who's about to rain all over your ass'_. It works well, really. I'm pretty much the only one at the office that can do the former properly.

If he'd have been doing his lunatic-boss routine, I might be a little scared, even though it wouldn't have stopped me. But he wasn't, so I didn't feel like I was feeding myself to the sharks when I said, "It's hardly _my_ fault if you act like an idiot more often than not."

"Well…" he said, but apparently couldn't think of anything to say, "Okay you got me there."

Yay!

"I-win…" I say sing-song-ly as I grin. I like winning. Who doesn't?

"Yeah, well, nothing's bothering me."

I roll my eyes, "Sure, Amarao. And that's why you drank five energy drinks, with like two thousand five hundred milligrams of sugar _each_ this morning."

"Exactly," he says and even sounds realistic when he tells me, "I knew _you_ would understand, Naota."

I nod skeptically, "Uh-huh."

I give him one last chance to say something before I pull out my trump card. After a moment I can verify that he won't volunteer the info. Oh well. Blackmail was always more fun, anyway.

I shrug absently, "Well, if you won't spill, than you get to pay for lunch today."

He gapes, "But it's your turn! I didn't bring my wallet!"

Mentally, I'm grinning a little too maliciously than I'm probably allowed for something as arbitrary as this, as I think,_ Hehe, I know._

"Not my problem," I tell him loftily, but entirely seriously. I don't joke. Leastwise, not when I'm interrogating Amarao. Oh, did I say interrogating? I meant having a nice chat with my boss. Right.

I could just burst out laughing right now.

"I'll get up and run away from the table first," Amarao tells me, angrily.

"We already established the last time that I run faster than you." I counter.

"You cheated! My shoes were untied!"

I roll my eyes, "Were not…"

They _so_ weren't…

"Well, I'm not paying this time. I paid the last time," he states definitively, his arms crossed, voice huffy with indignation.

"Then tell me what's going on."

He is really tense, I can tell. Amarao looks away without saying anything, like he's going to ignore me into submission, into forgetting about it. But I don't forget. You'd think he'd know that by now. I never let up. Never give in.

"Come on…" I growl at him.

"…they plan on sending two or their agents in tomorrow," he divulges.

"That's pretty quick," I say absently.

"Yeah," he says, and relaxes again. He thinks he's in the clear; that I'll let up on him now. Oh how wrong he is…

"Who are they?" I ask.

He tenses up again. "I dunno."

"Liar."

"How do you always know?" He askes, more to himself that anything else.

_I'm psychic_, I think jokingly. No, it was actually just that he was that easy to read for someone who had worked with him for about a year. Not to mention I was just cool like that.

"I'm just that skillful."

"Liar." Amarao reciprocated. I almost laugh.

I shrug, "Think what you want. So who is it?"

He's silent for a moment, and tension builds. Like I know what he's going to say. I think no. No. It can't be. It isn't…

"…Raharu and Atomsk."

Damnit.

"…"

That was me being stunned into silence, by the way.

"Yeah." he agrees. I don't know how you can agree to silence, but there it is. Right there. It happened, ladies and gentlemen.

"Haruko's…coming back?" I choke out and I'm rather proud of myself. I sound almost normal, except for the weird pause.

"Uh-huh," Amarao confirms, and he looks like a lost man, just sitting there staring at the table.

_Haruko…Back…_I can't help but think.

_Shit._ I push everything away. Back to business.

"So who's going to be in charge?" I ask, because it's a major concern, job-wise, "You, still, right?" Cuz, yeah, he's the commander.

"Theoretically." Amaro says, and doesn't sound very excited. I can think of a couple reasons why.

"Do they, like, get an office and everything?"

"Uh-huh."

"We _can't_ give her a gun…" I trail.

Amarao frowns at me, "The GSP's trying to take over our department, and all you care about is whether or not to give Haruko a gun…"

I know that not what he's actually mad about. He's mad that I can think objectively at all when we both know that Haruko is going to be around very soon. Haruko, the girl that changed both of our lives.

I play along though. Because, I'm not quite that mean. Or actually I don't know which is meaner. Whatever. This is the one I have a snappy come back for.

I snuff, "It's not a matter of will she or won't she be issued a gun. That's not an argument at all. She is _not_ going to be given a weapon. She's fucking crazy."

Amarao growls, "Why do I pay you again?"

Hah, that's not even a question.

I smirk, "Don't be ridiculous. The lovely tax payers and the government pay me, not you."

Gotcha.

He frowns deeper, "Fine. Why do I put up with you again?"

"Because I catch the bad guys almost as well as Kitsurubami, I'm more competent with stellar technology than most of our specialists, people actually do what I tell them to do, I have a sense of humor, I have an N.O. field, I'm not insane, I have a lot of experience with Alien species, I can look at your face and usually not laugh…"

"Okay, fine there are a lot of reasons," he admits, "Did you really have to say that last one?"

I nod, "I think it's a very unique quality of mine that is worth mentioning. Just be happy I didn't bring up the last three underlings you fired and sent to therapy once Kitsurubami made Field Commander and you had to find someone else to bitch at. They were gone in less than a month and I've been here for, what, a year now? I think that says something about how super-special-awesome I am."

Yup, I'm cool.

He looks at me confusedly, "Um…okay?"

"Okay."

"Oh. Kay," He agrees. I don't think he knows what he's agreeing to though. Neither do I actually.

"So, you said they're going to be here tomorrow?" I ask him for clarification purposes.

"Uh-huh."

"What time?"

"Regular work time."

"You seen her yet?"

"No."

"You nervous?"

"Yes."

I'm impressed, "Straight answer. Wow," I say. Straight answers are a rare thing with Amarao.

He shrugs. I think he's given up hiding things from me for today. I think if I asked him for the recipe of his superspecial cookies, he'd give it to me, at this point.

"You already knew…" he says by way of an explanation. Truth is I did already know he was nervous. Why did I even bother asking? I don't remember.

"So?" I ask, "Since when has _that_ ever stopped you?" _Nothing_ ever stops Amarao from doing stupid things like that. _Nothing_.

"Point taken." He says, but I don't think it is. He finally works himself up to ask, "Aren't _you_ nervous?"

Yeah, knew that was coming.

I shrug, "I dunno…I don't think it's sunk in yet. I expect about tonight I'll start freaking out."

And I'm not exaggerating about the freaking out part. I go into panic attacks, a very bad habit of mine, when I'm worrying about something. Or maybe it's not a habit. Can a panic attack be a habit? Or is it something…I don't know, psychologically predisposed to? Well, I freak out. Almost as creatively as Amarao. I usually keep mine from happening in public, though. Because it's less disruptive that way. I'm I've pretty much trained myself into not worrying about things much anymore. I sort of had to. It was that or be committed. Or look like Amarao. Between a rock and a hard place, those last two are. Decisions, decisions…

"Aww…you couldn't start now?" Amarao pretends to be disappointed. He's seen me freak out before, I act like a spluttering idiot and make wild accusations and babble on about nothing. I turn into the proverbial emo-kid.

"I don't get to make fun of you that often," He says and it's a fact; I arranged it that way. "It would make me feel better."

Oh, he wants me to make him feel better.

Aha-haha-ha!

"Contrary to your philosophy," I say, "_'making the commander feel better'_ isn't part of my job description."

What can I say? It really isn't in my contract.

"Contrary to _your_ philosophy, _'making the commander's life a living hell' _isn't part of your job description either."

That's not even true. His life is so _not_ a living hell. If he thinks it is, than he's exhibiting less imagination than I _know_ he's capable of. There are literally, _hundreds_ of ways I can make life suck for him. _Thousands_, even.

I shrug, "What can I say? I'm just an overachiever; I go above and beyond the call of duty. I should get a medal. Or better yet, a pay raise."

"Aha-ha-ha—no."

That was actually pretty well done. I almost felt hurt.

I snap my fingers jokingly, "Damn. Was worth a shot."

A phone rings.

Amarao searches about his person, managing to knock his sunglasses onto the ground before realizing he doesn't even have his cell. He always leaves it at the office by accident, which is why I always bring mine.

I snap it open, and say simply "Yeah," as Amarao looks embarrassed. He was the boss, he was supposed to have the phone.

It's Kitsurubami.

"_We've got a situation."_ She says nervously, the voice dimming as if she pulled away from the phone to look behind her at something.

"Yeah, what is it?" I ask. Me and Amarao are already picking up our coats getting ready to leave and I'm throwing money and a tip on the table. I hadn't gotten a chance to finish my sandwich, I realize irritated.

"_Haruko and Atomsk just—just suddenly showed up! What do I do!" _she sounded frantic. She was good on the military and management end, but much else was a little beyond her and she knew it.

"Fuck." I swear. I really don't have the time to do much else. It was either that or sit in the fetal position in my closet rocking back and fort, repeating _'this isn't happening. This isn't happening…'_ over and over. Since I had a job to do, I unfortunately had to resort to cursing.

"What, what is it?" Amarao asked me.

"Haruko and Atomsk just decided that fashionably late is overrate. I guess early is the new _'in'_ thing."

"Shit." Amarao's got a job to do to. He can't sit in the closet and cry either. Sucks for us.

Definitely a panic attack, tonight. Definitely.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Furi Kuri or any of the characters and situations associated with it.

**Too True**

_By LGR_

Chapter Two

---

The Department of Interstellar Immigration building looks like a normal office building from the outside. A lot of reflective glass, very sparkly…Inside of course, is a whole different story. It's sort of like Battleship meets Death Star. But without Darth Vader. And provided we _could_ sink your battle ship (a.k.a. blow it out of the sky), we'd get in a lot of trouble. And the bad guys wouldn't just take out our submarines and aircraft carriers. They'd take out our planet.

Amarao and I had walked to the Bistro; it's only about ten minutes away if you walk, but the highly inefficient (_read: an autistic monkey could have planned it better_) way the streets are set up makes it so driving could take anywhere from twenty to thirty, and that's if you found a parking spot relatively fast.

Hahaha…find a parking spot relatively fast….like that could happen, haha…

…

So yeah, we walked.

Plus, I have a car, but Amarao has this retro scooter. I think it's the exact same one he had all those years ago when I first met him. In fact I'm almost sure it is, but that would just be too pathetic. I've never verified it by actually _asking_ him, so this way I can stay in happy denial. _It really isn't the same scooter, it isn't…_

I'm surprised it still runs. I'm even more surprised that he drives it in traffic. I mean, it only goes like forty miles an hour. Statistically speaking, someone should have run him over by now and put him out of his misery. I drive about five miles an hour over the speed limit, and that's even on a good day. So say, on a bad day, I might be pushing eighty, eighty-five on the freeway, sometimes more, especially if there is alien-type trouble or it's my day off but Amarao is being a dick so Kitsurubami had to call me in to do some damage control, so I wasn't only hurrying but very, very pissed.

On a day like that, well, Amarao's scooter would be toast. Very flat and very mangled toast. And by toast I mean more like a hamburger patty. A bloody one.

…Oh hell, he'd be a corpse.

_Anyways_.

Like I said, walking to the DII building only takes ten minutes, and I spent every one of them swimming in a delusion while trying to ignore Amarao's hysterics. It was easier then I remember ignoring Amarao ever being before. I think because I was in a state of shock. Kind of like that guy who had first degree burns on his entire body but thought he was totally fine even when he was about ready to croak because his brain was like '_aww, this isn't happening!_', the last time we had a big brush fire. I saw that on the news. Pretty gruesome.

If you can imagine it, that's a pretty good comparison to what I was feeling. Just add the feeling of being on the very knife-edge of disaster and you'll get the idea.

Amarao was sort of stiff-walking next to me, and what little attention I could spare from pretending I wasn't on the cusp of a nervous breakdown, managed to come up with this the theory that his odd stops and starts were Amarao wanting to simultaneously run to the DII blowing kisses, and run away screaming psychotically. I might have been more worried about this behavior if the truth was that he didn't act like this on a regular basis. Although usually more toned down, I have to admit. Amarao was typically of the idea that we were all spiraling wildly out of control, which usually wasn't the case.

It might be the case today, though. Just maybe.

So I ignored his strange behavior.

Something strange in my life: how do I deal with it? Ignore the fact that it's strange. Creepy pink-haired maid that doesn't work and drives a flying vespa?—_totally _believable Robot running errands, zooming around town, swallowing me and turning into a super-hero?—Like _that_ doesn't happen everyday. A nuclear device shaped like a baseball—you mean they _all_ aren't?

Apparently not.

But freaking out about it won't solve anything. That's my motto. I've grown very good at pretending these things are normal. Sometimes I even believe it. Sometimes I also worry about my sanity or lack thereof, but as long as I make more sense than Amarao, I think I'm marginally okay. _Breathe, Naota…Breathe…_

I'm pretty much running on auto-pilot at this point, and Amarao has withdrawn into himself and isn't really paying attention to anything. I have to punch him in the arm to get the man to cough up his Security ID and Badge for the guy at the desk to look at. You'd be surprised how many aliens and just randomly strange people we get trying to sneak in here, and some of them are masters of disguise. Some of them can also metamorphosize into other people. And still others have very convincing holograms. I was almost fooled this one time…

…but that's neither here nor there.

Since me and Amarao are also N.O. field emitters, they have to wave this piece of equipment that looks like a stick attached by wire to a plastic box with a digital readout screen around us, to make sure one: we have the N.O. field we are supposed to and two: it's closed up so nothing can get through and use it against us.

How can the meter read our field when it's being scrambled by our N.O. blockers? The N.O. scramblers aren't one hundred percent effective. They only block about seventy percent of our fields. And in fact it doesn't even block our field, so much as the range that someone will be able to detect it and use our field against us.

If they'd wanted to get rid of our field, they'd have had to rewire our brains, which even for the Stellar Coalition and Medical Mechanica, _ain't happening_. It they had that sort of technology they wouldn't be working so hard trying to win people to their side; they'd have just gone to the source. A tweak here, a tweak there, and voila! Political zombie. Nice.

No, Medical Mechanica has to do things the good ol' fashioned way. An inhalant vapor that makes you susceptible to suggestion, mob mentality, promises that sound good but in reality suck, misdirection, misinformation and let's not forget military force. I mean, that's the most popular one, right? Right.

In the elevator, going down to the base floor, or the Bridge, as we call it, (No, I don't know why we call it the Bridge. It's not like we are on a submarine or a star cruiser, but what can yah do? I only work here, after all,) Amarao is planning what he's going to do, what Haruko/Raharu might say, what he might say back, that sort of thing. It occurs to me that he is totally leaving Atomsk out of his plans. For some reason it never occurs to me to illuminate him of that fact. Oh well.

I'm starting to get that feeling that you get when you are really nervous. That light-headed, not quite in control of your actions feeling, where you sort of temporarily forget everything about everything and your body is kind of just doing its own thing…or feels like it is, anyway. Its really not, you're actually controlling it, your just freaking out so much that your brain is trying to push away the crazy part because it's getting damn annoying and it can't fix things with a raving lunatic at the wheel.

At least, that's how I always pictured it.

I needed to calm down. Talking to someone would have helped, but Amarao…well he was already talking to himself. Didn't want to intrude. Counting had never really worked for me. I didn't exactly have a pillow to scream into or a comfort object. I needed to find something to occupy myself with. Besides panicking, that is.

Well, the inside of the elevator is all stainless steel; not very interesting. So I'm looking at the little lights on the panel by the door as they light up when we pass the floors they correspond to. We keep going until three levels above the Bridge, when we stop and the elevator doors open.

Amarao and I hold our breath…

It's Kitsurubami, in full military uniform.

We both let out our breaths. That is until we notice she's shaking and wringing her hands, a nervous wreck. Very un-Kitsurubami-like.

She walks into the elevator without speaking a word and turns to stand next to me. The doors close and we start to descend once more. I would imagine, that the icky feeling one gets in your stomach as the lift starts going down isn't helping anyone feel better. Certainly hadn't helped me.

Kitsurubami realizes just as quickly as I did that the stainless steel elevator décor is extremely boring (we _really_ need to fix that, get some posters, some magazines or something. Or a television, that would be cool,) and joins me in observing the blinking behavior of the lights on the panel, (not cool). We probably look like hypnosis victims.

"Your left eye is twitching," she tells me suddenly, and I turn and blink at her.

"No it isn't," I deny automatically only to realize that it in fact, _is_ twitching. Shit, I have a nervous tick. "Okay, fine it is," I admit, "You're wringing your hands," I inform her, pointing to her hands (che, as if she didn't know exactly where her hands were…) clenching and unclenching each other.

The blond officer drops her hands immediately to her sides, "Sorry," she says self consciously adverting her eyes from the elevator lights at the stainless steel wall. I'm not really sure what she's apologizing for. I don't think she does either.

"Just don't want you to ruin your gloves." Wow, where the hell did _that_ come from? I don't even know.

The elevator door opens onto the base floor far too quickly in my opinion. Amarao surprises me by already having his shades on, standing up straight, looking like a professional, as if nothing was wrong. Maybe he's standing a little too stiffly, but meh, who am I to complain. Kitsurubami is also composed looking standing at military attention. Very spiff.

Well, Amarao is a government employee, and Kitsurubami is a military officer. What am I? Practically just a Civilian with security clearance. Officially, I don't have a field position, even though I'm called on to do a lot of field work; Kitsurubami and Amarao know I can hack it.

Technically speaking, they might even get in trouble if anyone outside the bureau realized how many skirmishes I actually end up being involved in, weapon-wise. I have to have a concealed carry license, but that's about all the training they give a desk jockey who only has to fill out some papers and make sure his boss does the same. That's pretty much what the position is _supposed_ to be. In reality, it's sort of like deadline-enforcer, bodyguard, pseudo-scientist, alien-ambassador, and jack-of-all-trades field operator all rolled into one job. For one guy. No wonder my predecessors quit.

For that reason, I got some extra training in the last time recruitment rolled around. I sat in on classes. It was kind of fun, actually. We got to blow stuff up. All the Instructors were dicks, though. Aw well, nothing is perfect. If at any time my life _is _perfect, then I'll know that Medical Mechanica had managed to brainwash me the day before without my noticing.

Those sly bastards…

We are walking down the hall to the bridge now, Amarao with his _I'm-a-badass-Government-official-with-the-military-at-my-beck-and-call_ face on. It's pretty convincing. Many a snarky elected official and weasely politician looking to cut funding have beheld the almighty power that is Amarao's badass-commander face and seen the error of their ways. It's one of the few things about Amarao that I will admit out-loud to find admirable. Every one at the DII will confess that they think it's cool. The truth is we just like to see him use it on the unfortunate fools who walk through our stainless elevator door with the mistaken opinion that an orangutan could do our jobs better than we manage to.

Don't mean to denounce the intelligence of the orangutan (I'd vote for an ogranutan over most of our world leaders any day of the week) but I think the fact that three guys got fired or quit my position before I showed up disproves that, now doesn't it?

In case your wondering, the answer to that question is, hell yes, Naota, you are _so_ right.

I am.

_Okay, walking down the hall…walking down the hall…_

It's a long hall by the way. Very long and dim. The walls are all stainless steel (notice a trend yet?), the ground is cold concrete and the ceiling's covered in florescent light panels. Only about every third panel was on, however. The Bridge is very dark when we are on lockdown or partial lockdown, so they usually have most of the lights in the hall off so you don't blind yourself going in and out of the bridge.

We hadn't had any alerts today, so all the Lights were on when we walked through the big, square entrance wide enough for five or six people to walk in abreast with plenty of room on either side, and at least as tall. If you were looking you'd realize that there were three, count them _three_, layers of blast doors that came out of the side to seal it off from the hall. The Bridge was effectively a bunker.

The base floor, nicknamed _'The Bridge'_ is pretty huge. It's basically the entire base floor, with tall glass-like partitions to section off smaller parts from the main operating area. One gigantically high wall is covered in a digital screen that displays satellite feeds and information sent from equipment set up in remote locations on the planet and elsewhere, like space stations and whatnot.

Just as you walk in, on the right is a little sound-proof arrangement which is Atsuru's main desk. Most of us have more than one desk. You generally have your Bridge position on the base floor, which is usually a tiny little space with a screen that has readouts on it, although sometimes it's just the spot on the concrete you have scoped-out and claimed as yours before the entire facility, incase an alien army decides to try and bomb us and we all need to escape to the bunker/Bridge. You sit in that desk (or open spot) when we are on lockdown, and you pretty much just read off what your computer flashes on your screen at you. Or pray to god you don't die. Whichever you determine to be more constructive at the time.

And then you have your _main desk_, where you do your _actual_ work. It usually isn't on the Base floor, otherwise the bridge would be very crowded. Atsuru's just is because she works the overcom system; it has to do with consolidating communications or something. The bridge has all of our outside communications equipment.

Your main desk is where you've got your files, your paperwork, and your computer where you type up all your reports and play your online rpg's during lunch or break or whenever you can get away with it, (you have no idea how many people I catch playing WoW during office hours each month. They only _wish_ they were dead…) Field agents also have a locker that has all their field equipment, like Kevlar vests, gasmasks, blast shields…stuff like that.

Amarao has an office on every floor. Guess what that means? Yup, so do I.

They are all really clean though, because I'm never at one long enough to get it too messy. Plus everything is digital, we have very few hardcopy records. Only stuff we have to send outside the department needs to be an actual piece of paper with a signature on it. Me and Amarao do most of that stuff, so just about everything else is e-mailed, and we only have a single hardcopy made, which we send off to some warehouse somewhere for safe keeping.

Everything that we have stowed away, (and a lot of things we don't), is all backed-up onto +70G USB flash drives with full disk encryption so only authorized personnel can access it. As I'm basically the commander's (Amarao's) secretary, I have the _'honor'_ of updating all the major files and documents for the entire DII. I get to carry around a bunch of USB drives all strung onto a metal ring. Very fashionable. _Not_. Makes me look like a geek, but I guess I don't care. I kind of am a geek. I swear to god there are like twenty of them on there, most of them full. What takes up that much space? Files. Files and more files. And records. And schematics.

(And my music collection. But let's not get into that shall we? My music drive isn't even half full, though, just to inform you. And it's only about 12G, so don't get too excited.)

Why flash drives? It's easier to transport around and more flexible than burning information onto CD's or DVD's. And we need the info backed up just in case something happens and we have to destroy our computers to keep information from invaders and hide out in the bridge. That's also the reason we don't use hard copies if we can help it. All the computers have remote self-destruct mechanisms. It pretty much just fries the hardware; it doesn't make a big explosion. Burning paper files lying around is more dangerous, actually, if you'll believe me.

Thus far there hasn't been a full scale lockdown where the computer destruction command has been given. While _I've_ worked here, anyways. Kitsurubami said it's happened no less than six times since she's been with the DII. That's about 6/14, if you counting.

Atsuru looks up from behind her glass (_now that I think about it, I think it's actually Plexiglas or something. Some kind of plastic hybrid. Glass would be dangerous, and not soundproof enough_,) partitioned compound computer-set-up, with her head mounted headphones and microphone thing and sees us walk in. she turns to her phone/intercom machine (_not_ the overcom) presses a couple buttons and talks into it. We don't hear anything from her of course; the sound is being blocked.

Everyone was bustling about before we got in, running around, answering phones and intercom messages, typing away, filing the few hard documents we had—but seeing Amarao, a lot of people looked very relieved. There is a large Meeting Room in the back of the building, which unlike any other partitioned off area on the base floor, had opaque screens rather than transparent ones. It became increasingly obvious, as I stood there next to Atsuru's desk waiting for Kitsurubami and Amarao to finish whispering with her as to what had happened while we were gone, that Haruko and Atomsk must be in the meeting room. There were vague shapes pacing behind its screens, and everyone seemed to be avoiding it like the plague. A couple of the desks near the meeting room were abandoned and anyone who had to walk by it ran past looking ready to cry, hugging their laptops or file-folders or electronic equipment to their chests like it was their last hope on earth.

Very…strange. Just what the hell had happened while we've been gone?

Amarao had been standing up straight with his arms crossed behind him, looking like a member of the CIA or something (wasn't exactly that far from the truth, really) looking very stoic and somewhat scary, but now he was talking frantically with Atsuru the overcom-lady and Kitsurubami, having some sort of existential meltdown. Very dramatic, very time-stalling.

Kitsurubami's trying to pat him on the back and get him to pull himself together, but she's not really good at it. You can just tell she finds touching him really creepy and mildly dangerous. Can't say I blame her. I'm wondering whether not doing anything would violate my duties as Amarao's assistant, when I realize I'm being addressed.

"Nandaba-san! You're back, thank god. And Amarao-Sempai, too! I'm so relieved…" someone says, actually sounding sincere.

I turn from watching the minor crisis next to me to see who was so glad to see me. Usually people are more like _'Shit! It's Naota-kun! Quick! Pretend you're working on something!'_ so this was definitely a change. A pleasant one, though. Bout time I got respect around here.

Just Kidding.

As it turns out, the voice belonged to Takinori-san from the Scientific Research Division (not to be confused with the J-Rock star, Takinori. Definitely not.) Now, Takinori is about five years older than, but you'd never guess. It's not that he's older than he looks so much as he has no self-confidence and seems perpetually lost. He's unendingly shy and always screwing things up because he won't stop being nervous about the potential to screw up. It's a vicious cycle.

Most people at our workplace, even though they are deathly afraid of my reprimands, treat me according to my age, calling me Naota-kun, always joking about me and girls (and occasionally about guys, neither of which is appreciated, by the way). _Not Takinori_: He calls me Nandaba-san, and gets really nervous when I'm around. Can't really blame him though, the last _five times_ the fire alarm went off, it was his fault, and I had to go up and yell at him.

Truth be told, it wasn't fun for either of us. Yelling at Takinori is just not worth it; he gets so jittered up he's not fit for anything for the next three days. He's like crying while he's typing up reports and running simulations. It makes you feel bad, and you didn't even do anything. It's even funnier, if you step back and look at it, because although Takinori isn't intimidating or anything, he's tall; about half a foot taller than my five-ten, plus everyone tells me I've still got that college boy, _this-world-is-lame-I'd-rather-play-X-box-live-than-actually-live-my-life_ look soooo…yeah, I don't really appear that threatening, more sullen than anything else. I've been told that a lot. That I'm sullen. Especially in the mornings.

Even though it's pretty obvious what Takinori is relieved about, I'm about ask anyway, when it occurs to me to wonder what he's doing down here in the first place. I frown slightly at my coworker, "What are you doing down here? Your department is five floors up."

He looked surprised for a second. I don't think he expected me to change the subject on him. He looks kind of uncertain for a second then—oh no, he thinks I'm mad at him. Damn it. It probably didn't help that I was looking at him even more obviously annoyed at his existence than usual.

"Oh-Ah," he begins nervously, and now I _am_ starting to get kind of irritated, because stuttering is just plain annoying, "My-Ah s-supervisor sent me down here, because-ah, because my s-specialty is in extraterrestrial biology s-so-ah, he thought I might be helpful in-ah, a-addressing the aliens…" Takinori stammered out. He has a clipboard, and he's clutching it for dear life. Shit.

'Addressing the aliens'? What the fuck? Supervisor, who is the supervisor for SRD…oh that's right.

"Ouji-san sent you down here?" I ask him credulously. I'd thought Ouji-san was smarter than that, but apparently not.

I think Takinori would sink his head into his lab-coat collar if that wasn't physically impossible. "Y-yes," he tells me. His voice has taken on that verge-of-tears squeak.

"Take the elevator back up there and tell him he's an idiot, would you?" Definitely an idiot. Definitely.

"I'm sorry," I think that's what he said. It sounded like a shrilly garbled chirp.

"And get yourself some coffee or something," he tell him. He sure as hell needs _something_. It's probably not coffee though. It's probably something that you can only get by prescription from the pharmacy after a note from your psychiatrist.

"M-my break isn't until—"

I stop myself before I can sigh exasperatedly and roll my eyes at him, "Treat yourself, I won't tell anyone," I say in my best _I'm-a-nice-guy-once-you-get-to-know-me _voice.

He runs off. I don't think he's going to get coffee.

"What was Takamomi doing down here?" Amarao asks me suddenly. He and Kitsurubami seem to be over their crisis back there. Temporarily at least.

"Takinori," I correct him automatically. I hate it when your boss says your name wrong and doesn't even seem to care, it's so demeaning, so I generally try to learn your name, and apologize when I forget or mess it up. It makes it all the more effective too, when it comes time to yell at you.

"Whatever," Amarao shrugs impersonally behind his shades. That jerk… "Why was he here? And what did you _say_ to him? He looked broken up about something…"

_Oh. My. God…_

"_I swear. To. God. I didn't say anything._ He's just emotional! And apparently Ouji-san sent him down here under the mistaken opinion that Takinori's '_knowledge'_ of Interstellar Species might come in handy. Or something." My turn to shrug.

If Ouji-san had known a damn thing about Haruko, than he'd have immediately realized that Takinori wouldn't be handy in any way whatsoever when it came to her. I suppose it's not Ouji-san's fault he didn't know. Takinori's either.

"So what were you two chatting about with Atsuru-san?" I ask Amarao.

"Oh, she just told me our new…" (_Eyebrow_ _twitch_), "Agents are in the base floor meeting room, and she's told them I'll be there in a couple minutes. She also drew my attention to Atomsk."

"That what freaked you out?"

"I didn't freak out," he says indignantly, but I know the truth. We all know the truth.

"Forgive me, of course you didn't…" My tone is very dry there, don't know if you can feel the desert breeze off it or not.

Amarao either didn't or chose to ignore it. I'm thinking the latter. "Yes," he goes on, "She also mentioned the issue of housing…"

Wait-wait-wait: Back up.

"_Housing?_" I repeat to him, _knowing_ that I don't want the answer, and _knowing_ equally well that there really isn't anything I can do about it. I can already tell this is going to involve me giving one for the team or some shit like that. I failed at baseball. I'm _not_ a team player. There is no '_team'_ in Naota, or visa versa. Just no.

"Yes: where they are going to live."

_No! Really?_ I sarcastically think to myself.

"I know what 'housing' means, smartass." Technically speaking, I'm probably the one being a smartass here, but at this point I don't care. I refuse to see where this is going.

"Yes," he goes on, ignoring me, "Well, Kitsurubami-chan and I decided that Raharu would be staying with her, and Atomsk would be staying with you."

Kitsurubami is next to him nodding, but other than that, she's doing the smart thing and staying out of the conversation.

I'm understandably shocked. "I don't know anything about that guy!" I exclaim, "He's a _bird_! And he's huge! How did he even fit into the _building_?" You have to admit, that last one is a very pertinent question. At least I thought so.

"He's an Avionix. He can change volume," Amarao explains. He's just bursting with explanations today, now isn't he? That's kind of true, actually.

"Oh, well isn't _that_ convenient!" I accuse. I don't even know what I'm getting at. I think I'm hysterical at the moment. Nandaba Naota-kun can't come to the phone right now, do you wish to leave a message? He'll be sure to return your call if reality hasn't exploded with the force of five trillion gigaton hydrogen bombs by the time he comes back. If he feel's like it.

Amarao is looking at me funny. Kind of how _I_ usually look at _him_. "I didn't really expect _that_ to be the thing to make him snap…" he says out the side of his mouth to Kitsurubami. And I noticed, I can sure as hell tell you that!

"My apartment is _my_ personal space! You get that? _Personal space!_ You know, starts with a '_P'_ ends in an _'-ersonal space'_? It's _mine_, not the DII's, not yours, _mine._ I'm the one who pays the rent for it, it sure as hell _better_ be mine!...and my Landlord's! Mine and the landlord's and no one else's!"

Amarao's looking away with a weird look on his face like I'm embarrassing him by making a scene. As if he has any right! I have to put up with his crap all the time!

"It's still yours Naota, your just going to have a guest," he says. He's trying to reason with me. Reason has nothing to do with it. Hasn't anyone ever told him you can't reason with a crazy person? Not that I'm crazy or anything…not usually anyways.

But right now…just maybe.

"No," I shut him down, "Naota's apartment does _not_ have guests. _No way_. No." It sounds stupid even to me, but I just…it's my apartment and I just don't want anyone else there. It's _mine_. There. I said it. It's selfish, but true none the less. I'm the little brother, always getting hand-me-downs and in my older brother's shadow, can't I just have one thing that's for me? I pay for it all on my own, with my own job and everything. That's really important to me. I don't want anyone messing it up. Plus, he gave me absolutely warning. I need to clean it…

"Well that's just too damn bad Naota-_kun_." He yells at me angrily and I'm taken aback for a second as he goes on to rant at me. Maybe my job position isn't as secure as I thought it was…

I'm meek as a mouse as he continues, "We were able to rush their Legalization status because we're their employer so a lot of the Labor certification stuff was on hand. They are allowed to live on the planet legally, but you have to have a place of residency picked out and provide verification that you have the income to pay for it. Obviously they didn't have a place picked out, everything happening so quickly, so we just put names and addresses down of people who would take them in at least until they got a permanent residence. They don't have to pay for it, and the GSP is going to reimburse you for expenses, plus a little extra, so obviously they have the income to live there. Got it?"

…

I raised my hand out of instinct before saying "…I have a question."

I can't be sure, but I think Amarao blinked. "What is it?" he asked grudgingly.

"How come you had to pick _me_?" That's the bijillion dollar question.

He shrugged, "I don't know. You're just the only one I could think of who could A: handle having an alien around and B: I could force into doing it. Especially on such short notice. Plus, I thought you wouldn't mind once you saw how much the GSP will be paying you."

The money was appealing. You wouldn't think, considering how law enforcement agencies on earth are eternally under-funded, but the GSP was rich, to put it lightly. My income had probably just doubled, but _still_…

"…I hate you," I informed him. I could tell he didn't believe me, but at the time I'd said it, I'd meant it too. I'd get over it though. I'm forever having to get over things just to stay sane and relatively stress-free…or stress-free-_ish_.

I think he rolled his eyes. The Sunglasses were in the way. Why the hell was he wearing those indoors? "Of course you do, come on," he said and started walking towards the meeting hall, "You don't see Kitsurubami-chan complaining, do you? And she just learned about it, too."

Kitsurubami hadn't really said a word through the whole ordeal. If I were in her shoes, I would have—and did—argue, so that struck me as odd at first. "Why _aren't_ you mad?" I ask her, looking over. We were both following a little behind Amarao, even though we knew exactly where the meeting hall was. I think we both just didn't want to be the first ones to walk in there.

She shrugged and made a hopeless sort of expression. "I've come to expect this sort of thing…" she told me sorrowfully.

I can relate. "That's sad Kitsurubami-san," I tell her. Wow, what a way to live…

Guess I'll be like that eventually. If I stick around long enough, which I probably will. The World Government never really let's you go, once they've had you in their grasp. I'd imagine the same goes for organizations in space too. Well, that's what I've got to look forward to. Pretty depressing. It kind of surprises me, actually, that I don't really mind my job. There are parts I like and parts I don't. This is one of those parts I don't.

"Really sad," she agrees, nodding.

See, Me and Kitsurubami? We_ understand _each other.

We stop at the door, waiting for Amarao to open it. I can see the shadows moving behind the frosted glass.

You'd think through this entire exchange, including the living arrangement fiasco just now, that there would have been a spectacle and people would have stopped to looky-loo, but the truth is, everyone is pretty much used to this sort of thing happening on a regular basis, and in fact it was relatively mild compared to some of the weird shit Amarao puts us through.

_Umm, hellooooo?_ I'm thinking as Amarao is just standing their stock still. I glance over at Kitsurubami, who catches my drift and just shrugs at me. Apparently she doesn't know what the hell is going on, either. No one ever seems to know what the hell is going on around here, least of all me.

I'm about to say something when Amarao makes a sound that nearly causes me to jump out of my skin. It's so bizarre that I audibly heard the difference as everyone on the Bridge takes a moment to wonder what the hell _that _could have been before realizing it was Amarao being a freakazoid, and promptly ignoring that they'd ever heard such a sound in their lives. You know, the _smart_ way to react to odd things around here? It takes a _lot_ for something to be considered odd, though. So that was saying something.

"What the hell?" I wonder allowed.

Amarao is squirming big time.

"I'm just so _neeeeeeeeeervous_…" Amarao says dramatically, while he's rolling around somewhat in the air, somewhat on the ground, somewhat…I don't even know. Somewhat disturbingly. "How do you do it Naota?" he asks me.

I guess he thinks I appear be calm. Appearances are so often deceiving.

"You broke me when you made me share my apartment. I'm a fatalist now," I declare solemnly. It's even kind of true. I'm depressed right now. Depression overrides nervousness. That's how my limbic system works.

"Uh huh…" I don't think he believes me.

He takes a deep breath and _finally_ opens the door.

_Ka-Bong!_

Kitsurubami and I _barely_ have enough time to jump out of the way before Amarao flies at supersonic speed past our heads to skid across the carpet covered concrete and plow against an arrangement of desks anda_ now-proven-to-be-some-kind-of-plastic_-partition. A couple of loose papers flutter down around the disaster area and a couple wires are sparking, (that's a fire-hazard, that is), while a couple coworkers who had been walking by turn their heads to stare at the ruined desks, while the owners of said are sitting their looking bewildered and frankly a little annoyed, saying, _"Shoot, now I'll never get that report done by 2:00!"_

"_Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeah!"_ someone roars excitedly.

I imagine I'm looking a little dazed as I turn my head to look to my left, from my position flattened against the side of the door for defense.

The woman of my past is standing their in the doorway in a GSP uniform, tall and arrogant, with a guitar in her right hand, left pumping in the air in triumph.

Haruko is fairly tall, I'm guessing five-seven or thereabouts, with her slightly shorter-than-shoulder length cotton-candy pink hair, pale completion and chartreuse irises. We always wanted to know what color that word actually referred to, right? I know _I_ always did. Well it's yellow-green. Yup, didn't see that one coming either. Let that be a lesson to you.

She had always looked about nineteen or twenty to me, and that was still true. But how could that be after ten years? The answer to that question is the fact that she's an alien. When she'd first told me all those years ago, I thought it had been a pathetic attempt at a lie, and I'd felt a little chagrin at realizing she'd told the truth. It seems kind of obvious now. Haruko is indeed an alien: Kukurian to be specific. They are changelings that can rearrange their own molecules at their whim and assume any appearance they like, even simulating clothing. Which kind of explains how Haruko managed to do all the weird shit she did.

Kukurians are virtually immune to injury, disease, and aging. Their ability to change shape and even molecular structure makes trying to find, capture or contain them extremely difficult. So yeah, they are practically immortal and unable to be incarcerated effectively.

Oh, and get this, they reproduce A-sexually. Basically they'll eat a lot or something and then take their DNA and scramble it around a little, haphazardly, and split it off from themselves and it turns into its own entity. They also get to choose their genders, sort of. Gender doesn't matter in their reproduction, and they can change their gender basically whenever they want, however many times they want. What's also bizarre is that theoretically, they could breed with almost any creature in the Stellar Cosmos. And the offspring might even be viable. That's some crazy shit right there.

I've even met Haruko's…originator. She's also in the GSP, and she looks almost the same as Haruko does, which really threw me for a loop on first acquaintance, let me tell you. Her name is Superior Raharu, and she's basically a taller, slightly older looking (maybe late twenties, early thirties) very serious, perpetually pissed-off, bitchy version of Haruko, with a hard-on for being in charge and getting promotions. We have to deal with her every once in a while when the GSP sends someone down our way to check things out and make sure we haven't shoved our chips in with Metal Mechanica. Damn, am I glad she's not my boss. Fucking _hell_ damn.

I think the reason Haruko went by Raharu when she'd met Amarao, was that she hadn't really been around that long as her own person, and just went by Raharu's name until she thought of her own. This actually makes her about ten years older than me, by approximation. She might really _have_ been about nineteen when she was living at my house…weird to think so.

"Yeah! Right in the kisser! Dead on!" Haruko shouts.

In retrospect, I probably should have expected something like this. _Damn_ am I happy I didn't walk in their first.

_Ka-Bong!_

"Fuck!" I don't take the time to stare at the Guitar of which I had only managed to avoid from pure instinct (or maybe pure luck). Adrenaline is rushing through me so hard, so fast, my pulse is pounding in my eardrums; I don't even remember ducking the instrument now implanted in the wall behind me, much less when I scrambled away.

"—_aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"_

Haruko wrenches the Guitar out of the wall, grinning maniacally, and splinters flying everywhere. At the right angle, I was betting you could see to the other side of the wall, but I wasn't going to prove it. _Hell_ no.

I had my gun out, pointed at her, and out the corner of my eye, I see Kitsurubami doing the same. We were as prepared as we were ever going to get. Too bad we'd still probably die. Or at least get big bumps on our heads. Or she might have just been after me.

Haruko turned to look me right in the eyes like something out of a horror film, her movement alien and strange, she looked at me with a maniacal face.

"_Come on, Ta-kun, don't I get a welcome home KISS! KYAAAAAHHH!"_ She shrieked and rushed me with terrifying speed.

I automatically think: _Don't EVER call me Ta-kun!_ I began to refuse to being called that a little before Haruko left. I'm _not_ my brother…she should have remembered that.

It pissed me off, being called Ta-kun.

She hit my gun out of my grasp (point for her), but when she reversed her swing to pop one at my head, I wasn't there anymore (point for me). I blocked her kick, (damn she kicks hard) with my left arm and then there was only the pain.

The Guitar blow knocked me senseless for a moment. I don't think I passed out, but when I could recognize what was going on again, I was sitting up on the ground with a splitting head ache and the worst case of vertigo I've ever had in my life, repeating "_Shit, shit…"_over and over again.

"_YeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAHHHH! I'm two for two, Baby!"_ I couldn't really see, all I saw were dots of red and black whenever I opened my eyes, but I imagine that she was standing in the middle of the bridge with her left hand out, her thumb facing down in the famous roman gladiator 'kill' gesture. I kind of wished I really was. Dead that is.

"Doesn't he need to be knocked unconscious in a single hit for it to count, Haru?" someone said. I didn't recognize the voice. It was very deep and slightly…fizzy, or vibrating; an almost electronic quality. I don't know how to describe it, but it wasn't really in the sound itself. In fact the voice could have been mistaken as normal. No it was sort of a fizzle in my brain like and echo, that I could tell wasn't audible to my ears, but somehow perceived by my brain. Strangely, it wasn't a painful or irritating resonance, but it wasn't human. _Definitely_ wasn't human.

"Oh, come _on!_ He's _totally_ down! That _totally_ counts!" Haruko protested angrily and I'm getting an image of her freaking out and stabbing fingers everywhere. I kind of wished she'd shut up: her shrieking wasn't doing a damned thing for my throbbing head.

"No it doesn't," that was that other voice again. He said it matter of factly and slightly arrogantly. As if the owner knew he was right and didn't particularly care if haruko agreed.

"Well, _I_ think so." Haruko sounded really huffy and put-out.

"You still _lo-ost_…" The other voice said again, in a patronizing sing-song sort of way. It kind of reminded my of the way a Bro talks. Surfer Bros _and_ Dunning Bros; they are both pretty similar accents, although Japan doesn't have any Dunes. We have some surfers though.

For some reason only _now_ did I realize it must be Atomsk's voice. Wow, am I slow. At least I have an excuse: I took a blow to the head. Seriously, I did. You were there to witness it.

He continued, and I wanted to tell the guy he was wasting time trying to reason with Haruko—reason did _not_ control anything she did—but I didn't say anything. For one thing my teeth were clenched so tight from the pain; I don't think I would have been able to get a word out. For another, he'd supposedly been Haruko's partner far longer than I'd known her, he should know that already.

"You said you bet you could knock them both unconscious with a single contacting hit, and you couldn't," Atomsk told her, "That guy, um…what was his name?"

Gee, thanks, nice to be remembered.

I'm blinking my eyes at the ground now, and I can make out the carpeted floor, which is really hard by the way. _Very_ uncomfortable. I can verify just from sitting here that they used no padding in between the carpet and the concrete. Absolutely none.

My head still throbs but it's somewhat bearable, and I look up to see Haruko talking to Atomsk and I finally got a good look at her guitar, which definitely wasn't the one she came here with, much less the one she left with.

Her old guitar, the Rickenbacker 4001 Midnight Blue Left-Handed Base, was still at my apartment. When she'd left, she'd taken the double-necked fusion of my Gibson Flying-V and Atomsk's 1961 Gibson EB-0. But that wasn't what she was carrying right now. After inheriting that damned thing, I'd had a stint where I'd decided that music was really cool and worth getting into, so I'd looked up a lot of Guitars and basses and I recognized this one as a Rickenbacker 4003 Shadow with an black body, checkerboard binding, and black dot "S" type neck with binding, and black hardware. I was vaguely jealous, because it looked _hella_ cool.

I'd never really known what the significance of the guitars were, much less where the hell they'd come from, until I'd gone into the Department of Interstellar Immigration. Scientifically speaking I still don't really know how the process works but apparently is a condition similar to that of an N.O. channel emitter. N.O. channels work because either your brain waves lock onto an object, or an object locks onto your N.O., and the interaction of the Left and Right sides of your brain creates something like a worm-hole. The way this other ability works, is by using one's own brain wave interaction to lock onto another's, and convert their brainwaves (which is a form of energy all on it's own) into matter. Thus the guitar is a manifestation of one's brainwaves. Like a brain map.

No, I don't really know why it works either, but apparently it does. It seems to me like the mysteries of life only get more mysterious as the days drag on.

I remember Atomsk as a giant, glowing, red bird-like creature. He was still red and still bird like, and he still glowed a little. He wasn't giant though, and this was obviously because of what Amarao had pointed out. Atomsk was a kind of alien known to use earthlings as an Avionix. His face was like a bird but…it looked fake. Not alive. Like a headdress or mask something, it didn't move, not even when he spoke. It was covered in red and orange and black spiky, long feathers. I couldn't really make out eyes anywhere either. I'd scene non-humanoid aliens before but…it was still bizarre to think that something that looked like this was intelligent. Probably far more intelligent than me.

He actually had hands, which I hadn't expecting, base don the face. What I thought had been wings was actually an elaborate article of clothing that was a layered tunic type thing over a robe type thing with really long, wing-looking sleeves, and he even had shoes. They were sandals though. And I could clearly see five super long, shiny black talons on each digit. The hands had them too. Everything that wasn't covered in clothing was covering in bright red orange and black feathers. The only thing that clued me in that he was a member of the GSP was a bright badge pinned on his shoulder.

"That's Nandaba Naota-kun," Kitsurubami explains, speaking up for the first time since Amarao had been taken out. I look over and realize he is still on the ground, but by the way he's groaning, he's woken up from being unconscious. Damn, Haruko can hit hard…

Haruko pouts a little bit, her eyes half-lidded looking at Kitsurubami in annoyance for a moment before turning back to Atomsk and saying, "But I call him _Taaaaa-kuuuuun…_"

Really should have seen that one coming.

"_No_." I growl, "You can call me Nandaba-san or Naota-kun. But _not Ta-kun_," I tell her and everyone really, in no uncertain terms. I think I had my _do-it-or-else-you-die-painfully_ face on when I said this. It never fails to strike a concept home when I use it.

For an instant Haruko looks really surprised, startled even, but a second later and I think I must have imagined it, because she only looks haughty and maybe a little angry rolling her eyes at me, as if I'm the biggest idiot on the planet.

"_Well that's just too damn bad!_" she spits at me and turns on her heal, stomping back into the meeting hall and plopping down in a chair crossly. Kitsurubami and I exchanged confused glances and she mouthed that she was going in then entered the room after Haruko, sitting down at another chair.

I blink at her for a second. I catch Atomsk attention, and we blink (or in his case _stare_, I still can't find his eyes), at each other and I can tell from his demeanor, despite his being an alien, that he doesn't really know what that was all about either.

"I'll just…call you Noata-kun," he says to me awkwardly.

"That's fine. Everyone else around here does pretty much," I say vaguely.

"And this is going to sound lame and all, but thanks for helping Haru steal me back from Medical Mechanica."

I think I felt my eye twitch. "Um…no problem I guess. I wasn't a big deal or anything…" I'm not looking at him. Yeah, I'm really uncomfortable now. I mean, what _do_ you say to that? Fuck if I know.

"And apparently you're sharing your house with me and on really short notice. Thanks for that, you probably got pushed into it."

I did get pushed into it.

"It's okay, don't worry about it," I tell him. I guess it won't be that bad. At least he's not a jerk. It'll probably be kind of weird when Gaku and Masashi come over tomorrow though…crap. One more thing to think about.

Well, actually Gaku and Masashi would probably think Atomsk was as cool as all hell.

"Get up off the floor Naota!" Amarao yells behind me and I nearly jump out of my skin, "We're supposed to be in a meeting!" he says angrily and stalks into the room as if he _wasn't_ just knocked unconscious by Haruko with a Rickenbacker 4004 Shadow. His suit isn't even messed up. How the hell does he do it? I'd really like to know. My white with navy pin-striped dress shirt was totally wrinkled.

_Why_ the hell we had such a high-end dress code…

I really didn't want to go in the room. I don't know how the hell Amarao did it. He'd been more hung up about this than I was.

From the looks of it Atomsk didn't really want to be there either, but neither of us had much choice. I think he recognized something in Haruko's manner, and knew some shit might go down once we got in there. That's what I'd gleaned from the situation anyways. He knew her better than I did, probably. The fact that she seemed to be a bomb that was ticking, and could go off at any second, didn't really encourage me to be anywhere around her when she went off. I'd _never_ seen her like that before. Haruko was never…_pouty._ Not in a serious way. Some time's she was crazy insane to the point that she'd try and kill you, but this was too…subdued. Something weird was definitely going on.

We both shrugged at each other, and I got the feeling I was setting myself up for a fall. I got up and dusted myself off and followed him in, knowing that this situation sucked beyond compare.

* * *

Thank you for reviewing! 

**Impact-Magaton**, there you go, that's what Atomsk is like. I like him, hope you guys do to. He looks a little different than in the anime, because frankly I couldn't get a good enough to picture know exactly what he looks like, and also because he was kind of boring and ugly before...

I know in the original plot, Atomsk was going to be Haruko's prisoner whom she fell in love with but they scrapped that part of the plot. I hadn't heard about the nose-ring/beak/bracelet connection, but it certainly sounds plausible. It could totally be true.

Thanks for your question, and thanks for saying my story is creative! Little things like that really get me teary eyed. Hope you liked this chapter too!.

**Inuhanyou **well, that's their reunion. Sort of. I hope I did Haruko okay. I think I did pretty well, what do you think? Thanks for reviewing I'm really glad you liked my first chapter, hope you like this one too!

**Galabad**, here we go the second chapter! It's awesome to know I'm top on your list for Naota! I love portraying him as a brilliant but sort of brooding, young adult. There's certainly dialogue in this chapter, hope it measures up last chapter's.

Yeah, I started out trying to explain what the anime said about Medical Mechanica, but there wasn't much so I sort of made some up on my own, reworked it so it made sense. I suppose this story is practically AU, because of it. Maybe I should put up a label? Atomsk and Haruko are only in here for a little bit, you'll notice, but they do get to talk. And I think you'll agree that there are some things that pop up in this one. Hope you like!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Furi Kuri or any of the characters and situations associated with it.

**Too True**

_By LGR_

Chapter Three

---

There's something to be said for being yelled at when you didn't actually do anything wrong. I don't exactly know what that thing to be said is, but I'm sure it's out there somewhere. There must to be some form of verbal communication that can accurately portray the injustice of such an incident. Because I mean, the abuse was verbal, so why can't the description be too? Maybe my language skills just suck. Naw.

The one yelling is Superior Raharu, the slighted party being, you guessed it, _me_. Oh, and everyone else in the room. Raharu is an equal opportunity bitch; she likes to spread the abuse evenly. No racism or speciesism here. Unfortunately.

Kukurian or not you'd think she'd eventually explode or have an aneurism or blow a heart valve or…something equally stress-related and fatal. Haven't they done studies that say stress is bad for you? I'm pretty sure they have. No one likes stress to begin with so it's a shoe in for being bad for you. I know they have done tests on _humans_, but I'm talking about for aliens, too. And all life forms really. I'll get an intern to look it up for me.

Yes, we have interns, but only for research and filing-type stuff, we don't go to the trouble of putting them in positions that count as 'sensitive', mostly because it would be annoying doing the paperwork to get them security clearance. As if we don't have enough paperwork to do already without adding more on top of that, (which is odd considering we went to a digital system. I think paperwork is just one of those universal constants, like time, death and stupidity). I was never an intern; I got thrust right into the job. Yeah, I'm badass like that. I think we have five interns right now and they pretty much hate me because we're about the same age but I've got the job they pretty much want and won't get anytime soon. Probably doesn't help that I bust them for downloading porn on our computers at least every other week. Or one of them actually. That guy will probably be fired next quarter.

But that's beside the point for the moment.

You're probably wondering why she's yelling at me. I mean us. Sorry, being yelled at sometimes has the effect of distracting you from everything else going on around you so forgive me for forgetting. Superior Raharu just has a way of making you feel like she's talking directly to you even while facing a group of people. Like she holds you responsible for every fuck-up in the world and she will exact vengeance on you _very soon_. Mostly because every fuck-up in the world encompasses why she was passed over for the last promotion (whether you were responsible, only vaguely aware of the occurrence, had nothing to do with it, didn't even know she existed, or any other form of connection or distinct lack thereof with her current career status), but she'd rail on a child for coloring outside the lines, so don't go thinking she is in any way legitimate. Trust me, she's not.

Yeah, Raharu thinks that the 'superior', is some sort of reflection on her state of being compared to everyone else in the universe, rather than just an organizational title. Like people should have shrines in their houses so they can worship her, light incense and give offerings of salted pork or something. I'd almost have to say that she seriously thinks she's a deity. But rather than the slightly more benevolent monotheistic religions, Raharu is more in the tradition of the ancient Mayans and Aztecs: She ain't happy unless you're sacrificing some virgins to her, and usually not even then.

Hell, for all I know sometime way back she _was _worshipped as a goddess, albeit on some backwards planet where everybody's on crack Not even Earthlings are that stupid. Or labeled to be that stupid, anyways. I don't think we're that stupid. It's just a running stereotype among the Stellar Community. Sort of like how all nerds supposedly wear thick, black-framed glasses and pocket protectors, and all people that wear black are Goths or Emo. Totally _not _true right?

Right.

Because some nerds disguise themselves well. And some of those black-wearing-people are Punks, Scene Kids, Wannabe's or Matrix cosplayers.

Back to why she's yelling at me—Us why she's yelling at _us_…

The simple straight-forward answer would be I don't have a clue. I seriously don't. We're all sitting here in the meeting room (minus part of the wall), trying not to look at each other, or Raharu, or anything really, which is kind of hard when there's five people in a room with a giant holographic projection and you're surrounded by things that fall unmistakably into the 'anything' category. In fact, the safest thing to do right now would probably be to just close your eyes.

Ahh yes, the good ol'_close-your-eyes-and-hope-once-you-open-them-you'll-realize-it-was-just-some-sort-of-strange-frightful-convoluted-dream_method.

I don't think I really need to tell you all this, but that method has never worked for me and I'm pretty sure it never worked for you either. In fact, sometimes I'm having a strange, frightful and convoluted dream and I wake up to an even stranger, more frightful, more miserably convoluted reality. You know how certain physics theories predict infinite parallel dimensions in which every possibility is represented? Ours is the one where all the _bad shit happens_. No lie. I have it from a reliable source.

When we came in to start the meeting (which was every bit as bad as I thought it was going to be even though this isn't exactly the road _I'd_ thought would be the one to take us to hell; it's a toss up as to whether Haruko or Raharu is worse…I seriously can't decide one way or the other), Amarao sat down at the head of the table like the badass executive he thinks he is and Kitsurubami took the seat on the left like a good little second-in-command.

I'm just a secretary so technically I should be standing there handing him pamphlets and looking up shit in his date book or sitting half-way down the table or in some corner unobtrusively taking notes…or is that the stenographer? Whatever. But anyways, like I've explained before, my job isn't really as advertised. There's some paper shuffling but that's not solely what I do. This being so, I sat a chair down from Kitsurubami, leaning back in it wishing I was doing anything but this. Even writing reports. Even yelling at Takinori! Anything would do, I wasn't picky.

Well, I am picky but at that singular moment in time, I wasn't.

Raharu was sitting half way down the long business table, her chair pulled out at an angle, sitting practically facing in the opposite direction as everyone else, one leg crossed over the other, her arms folded over her chest, face petulant as she pointedly looked away from us.

She looked sullen as hell, which is usually my job so I'm kind of irritated about that but I'm mostly mad about her being pissed at _me_ when _I_ didn't even _do_ anything. (Seems like there's a theme here: Kukurian's hating me for no reason). She's got no right to be pissy right now, none whatsoever. I'm the one who just got bitch-slapped by an Electric Bass, for crying out loud…

Atomsk sat next to her, beaked face looking at the ceiling, one clawed hand tapping the table repeatedly, (and probably ruining the varnish, _jeez_…).

It suddenly occurred to me that this guy—this bird-_thing—_was going to be my roommate for the next…well I don't know how long, but probably a while. At least a couple weeks.

I hadn't shared a room in…god knows how long. Since the sixth grade when Haruko was pretending to be our maid, I think. I hadn't shared a house in about three years, either. Not since I moved out the last year of college and even before my dad was always working on his Zeen and my grandfather just watched soap operas in the back room and half the time I wasn't even in the house. I was out with my friends or hanging out under the bridge or manning the register in our bread shop.

So much for peaceful solitude; I'm going to have to put up with all kinds of crap now. What does Atomsk even eat anyways? Probably regular food, right? That's what he's going to get anyways, I don't cook interstellar crap. He can cook himself if he wants something different, and he can clean it up too. And he slept, right? He was an alien, so did he have a twenty-four hour day? If he didn't it sucked for him. I've never had a room-mate before. I have an extra room, but it's just got a television on a tiny wood entertainment center with my game systems hooked up to it and a set of shelves with nothing on it but my old college books that I couldn't sell back or thought I might need again, a file cabinet and that's it. It's pretty small, too.

Atomsk was surprisingly normal (_so far_), which really shocked me actually. He can speak Japanese too, which most Aliens don't. Sometimes, if they learn an Earth language at all, they'll know English, French or Spanish because those are the top 3 on the Weber's list of most influential languages. Like everyone else in Japan I had to take three years of English in middle school and three in high school but I tried to talk to my sister-in-law in English the first time my brother visited from the US and I sucked at it. I can't really understand it well even though I know all the grammar and everything, and apparently my pronunciation could use more than a little work. A complete overhaul actually.

(Her name's Veronica by the way. Don't know if I mentioned that. I don't think I did. Anyways, Veronica tutored my brother in English so that's how they met, and she knows Japanese of which I'm glad, and her name translates pretty well into katakana: Be-ro-ni-ka. I can pronounce it. Mostly.)

But none of that really has anything to do with my current problems. Not a moment after I realized my life for the next couple months (or the rest of eternity) was going to suck, did Haruko pull out a small mechanical thing and slam it on the table and _Superior Raharu's Reign of Terro_r ensued via live-feed hologram projection.

She went through the usual: Our department is a bunch of primitive, jumped-up monkeys (_I don't know if I really believe in Darwinism, but that still stings_), a bacterium could do our jobs better than we do (_um no: it couldn't_), we weren't worth her time (_apparently nothing is worth her time so this doesn't really bother anyone_), we should all rot in our respective versions of hell (_you mean this isn't hell?), _and last but not least she was certain that our presence in this operation was only going to fuck things up but her 'superiors', (_she said 'superiors' like a normal person might say 'pond-scum'_,) made her do it anyways, and she wouldn't come near us with a ten light-year long pole if such a thing existed which it didn't, (_Raharu-babe, the feeling is mutual_).

"—If I know you people (and I DO, miserably enough,) you'll somehow manage to screw something up DESPITE whatever I do, so I expect DAILY reports of your progress so I'll have time to FIX whatever FUCK-UPS you make before the inspection by the SGC Administrators! If this sorry excuse for an interplanetary relations operation does ANYTHING to jeopardize my standings with the brass, I will PERSONALLY make your lives a living HELL—!"

Okay, I'm getting really sick of this. I think it's been going on for about an hour now. Maybe longer. Yeah, probably longer.

At the beginning of Raharu's whole rant thing I was pretty bewildered, nervous, scared and surprised at the same time. But the whole surprised part wore off pretty quickly and after the first half hour or so, the scared and nervous did too, and I had transitioned back into my default emotion: sullen, cynical and mildly irritated.

And if you know the default version of Naota at all well, you'd realize he wouldn't take this crap lying down. And by 'he' I mean me. Why did I just talk about myself in the third person like that? Bizarre. Funny: if I were to blame it on aliens invading my brain it wouldn't even be far-fetched. Go-figure.

Speaking of aliens…

Interrupting her, I ask in a patronizingly innocent voice: "So what if YOU fuck up? Do we get to make YOUR life a living hell?"

Queue vinyl record backtracking sound-effect.

The eyes of everyone in the room were suddenly looking right at me. A split second's scrutiny and I knew that Amarao and Kitsurubami looked shocked and freaked-out; Haruko looked quizzical as if I was a dog that had suddenly done an interesting trick; Atomsk had only looked at me long enough to clarify who'd spoken, then shook his bird-like head and let it drop into his claws: a 'you just HAD to fucking open your mouth, didn't you…' gesture, if I'd ever seen one, (and I had).

Shit, I'm stupid.

The moment I realize this, I hear ringing in my ears and the world starts swimming in front of my eyes and suddenly that disembodied feeling I had earlier while walking up to the DII comes back triple-fold. Once again I feel like I'm not really in control of my body. I think my brain got sucked somewhere through my N.O. channel. Yeah, that was a joke. But seriously I'm having a panic attack here.

Raharu looked like she was replaying what I'd just said in her mind, trying to discern whether she'd heard me correctly, because she couldn't quite believe anyone would talk back to her. "—_What _did you say—?" Raharu demanded, her voice low and dangerous.

_Quick Naota, make something up!_ I tell myself, but I feel like I'm out of step with time somehow. As if my thoughts are coming both too fast and too slow at once. I've got too much time to think and not enough so I start raving in my own head: _Why am I talking to myself in the third-person again? Or is that second-person? I think its second person, since I'm telling me to do something…I think…I'm not sure; whatever. I might look it up if I decide I care._

For some reason that I can't explain, I answer Raharu back, just as condescendingly as before. "I said: If we think you're a shitty boss who can't do her job, can we make _your_ life a living hell? I'm justified; it's only fair."

_Nooooooooooo-ho-ho-hooooo!_

God I want to kick myself. It's too bad that is physically impossible.

I'm under some kind of surreal trance or else I would probably be running right now, because Raharu is _fuming_. She tenses up, her hands clasped into fists straight at her side, and her face contorts furiously as she spits: "—I am an EXCELLENT boss! How DARE you even ELUDE to the possibility that I might not be—!"

The hologram is slightly larger than real-life not to mention projecting from the table, making the top of her hologram about eight or nine feet off the ground. Which is pretty damn intimidating, I must say. I'm sort of used to the yelling at this point from having to put up with the almost identical, if slightly toned down, rant she'd forced us to sit through the last hour or so. I'm still flinching at some of the main words, but that's mostly reflex, rather than actual fear. I think most of the negative reactions are being blunted by my state of semi-consciousness.

"—I ought to FIRE you for even CONSIDERING such a thing—!"

Blink.

_Fire me? She ought to fire me? __HA HA-HA HA ha-ha ha ha…__Wow, I'd like to see her try_.

Is the fact that I'm mentally laughing in this situation indicative of my mental state? I sure hope not…I think this is another example of having too much time to think about things in my head…

"Go ahead: I don't work for you," I said wryly with a hint of a laugh. You know that tone of voice you get while patronizing an idiot who is trying to insult you and failing miserably at it? That's the tone I'm using right now. Or the one the alter-ego that's controlling my body right now is using. I think I will call him Bob.

Raharu splutters for a couple seconds before growling and finally stabbing her holographic finger at Amarao. "—AMARAO! Control your employee, I DEMAND restitution! YOU HEAR ME? DEMAND IT!"

Amarao jumps in his seat, startled at being addressed, as if he'd forgotten he was in any way involved, "Uhh…uhh…" he stutters, his fake eyebrows twitching a mile a minute. That's right Amarao, you aren't safe either. Welcome to hell.

Raharu seems to realize Amarao is vaguely comatose at the moment and not about to come up with a comprehensible response any time soon, and turns back to interrogating me. "—Who the hell are you, anyways? What are you doing here—?"

"Finally, a _good_ Question. What the hell _am_ I doing here? I should have just walked out ages ago. This was the most pointless meeting I've _ever_ been too and I was at the meeting last month when the research department spent the entire three hours insulting Amarao's illustration skills when he tried to draw a Centuarian alien with dry erase marker on the white board. Ch-yeah. _Entertaining_, but pointless. This meeting wasn't even entertaining. I spent the entire time getting bitched at…" Blink, "Damn it, I just said that aloud." _Shit_.

"—INSOLENCE—!"

Well, in for a penny in for a pound…"Right back at yah," I reciprocate voice dull and bored. Or Bob does, anyways. Wish I could take credit for it. Why don't I? Henceforth anything said by Bob will be cited as if spoken by me: the less masochistic version of Bob.

…The dilation in my perception of time is creating the weirdest running commentary I've ever thought of before. I think I'm channeling Haruko or something.

Whatever I give up. Whatever the hell comes out of my mouth comes out of my mouth. I'm not going to bother being nice. Or as nice as I ever am, anyways. Or as sane as I ever am, at that. Fuck it; I've never been sane…

Amarao seems to have recouped enough to realize what exactly is going on i.e. the grave I've been digging this whole time has gotten as deep as the Marianas Trench and I'm jumping in head first while making a pretty good effort at dragging everyone else down with me.

"_Shut up_, Nandaba!" he hisses at me.

As I said before, I've given up caring what I say to Raharu. She deserves it, anyway. I sigh, "What's she going to do about it? Yell at me some more? She just did that for an hour. It's like white noise at this point: unintelligible, meaningless and mildly irritating."

_God damn you Bob. You and your snappy comebacks and big talk…You would be cool if you had even the slightest amount of self-preservation…_

"I really _will_ have to fire you if she puts enough pressure on us, Naota-kun," Amaro informs me. I should probably feel nervous right about now. Odd that I don't.

"—I'm still HERE, you know—!" Raharu screams.

I say '_Good for you,'_ the same moment Amarao says '_That's nice_.'

"I thought we went over this, Amarao," I tell my boss, "You're not going to fire me." I remember that we'd come to this conclusion over lunch just today. Was it just today? That increased perceptivity of time made it seem like such a long time ago. When would today be over? Or hell, just the meeting.

"It wouldn't be me firing you it would be the higher ups." Good argument, Amarao.

"Meh, once they realize you don't get anything done unless I'm here they'd just hire me back," I respond, (that Bob, he always knows what to say). And that's not even an exaggeration.

"—HEL-LOOOO—!" Raharu yells again but we ignore her; me because I'm just that much of a jerk, Amarao because he wants to convince me not to say anymore stupid stuff before he redirects his attention elsewhere.

"You're pretty full of yourself," Amarao says with a frown.

"I'm not bragging; it's just the truth. Do you know how much double-overtime I get because Kasami has to call me in on my days off because no one can get you to do anything?"

"Of course I don't, I don't write the checks, finance does!" Ain't that the truth.

"Well, let me tell you, it's a lot."

"—PAY ATTENTION TO ME, DAMN-IT—!" Raharu demands, stomping her foot like a three year old. She'd have broken the table if she was actually on it.

I turn to Raharu and giver her my most arrogant stuck-up voice, saying "Could you stop interrupting? It's rude."

Amarao flinches and grabs his hair like he's going to pull it out, "What's _with_ you today, are you suicidal or something?" Suicidal, no. Schizophrenic, maybe.

"I just listened to Atila the Cosmic Hun over here rant for more than an hour. I'm surprised you're not suicidal too." Suicidal he may not be, but his mental health is still in question.

Shruggin, Amarao says, "That's a good point." _I know_.

Raharu is jumping around in her navy blue GSP uniform with it's her rank bars, like a petulant child. "—Shut up! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!—"

It's getting kind of annoying. "_You_ shut up," I tell her, "You're the one yelling." My_ God!_ Bob needs a fucking muzzle, I _swear_. The asshole won't keep his trap shut.

"—No, YOU shut up!—" Wow, that's mature.

Amarao groans, and starts rubbing his temple, "Don't encourage him, Raharu…"

The Kukurian rounds on Amarao, stabbing at him with her finger. "—That's SUPERIOR Raharu to you, Amarao! And I'll encourage him if I damn well want to—!"

I can't help smile at how ridiculous this is as I tell Amarao, "Yeah, you heard the lady."

His ugly eyebrows knit together in irritation. "Shut up Naota."

"You shut up," I tell him bossily, "You're the one butting into _our_ conversation."

"—Yeah, Shut up—!" See, even Raharu agrees. With Bob no less, who was insulting her all this time. I think that means I'm right. Me and Bob are _right_.

"Oh my god," Kitsurubami pleads, speaking for the first time. She looks like she's about to have a panic attack. Or maybe whip out a revolver and start shooting. Or both. And I thought Amarao and I were unstable. "Everyone: Stop. Saying. Shut up.It's_ annoying._"

Raharu glares at her. "—_You're_ annoying—!" Hehe! That's funny.

This is so random. It's probably compounding my feelings of disconnection from reality. "My, what intelligent conversation we're having," I remark seemingly absently. I can't even think of a conversation I've had with my four year old niece that was this juvenile. Hell, we had more in depth conversations when she was two.

"—Fine, it's obvious no one wants me here. I'll just leave.—" Raharu says haughtily, crossing her arms, pouting and looking a hell of a lot like Haruko. Oddly, I'm getting the impression she actually thinks we care whether she leaves or not. Or rather, she thinks we want her around. The reality couldn't be further from the truth.

Halleluiah. "_Thank you._ _Finally_," I pronounce with feeling. Bob is just as happy she's leaving as I am.

"—I'm leaving—!" she says again.

"Great." Hurry up.

"—I really am going—"

"Okay."

"—I'm going to leave now—"

"You do that."

"—I'm going—"

"Good, go already." Fuck, I don't think she's leaving.

Raharu frowns, growling "—Fine! I will—!"

"Fine."

"—Fine—!"

"Fine."

"—Fine—!"

"Fine."

"—FINE! I'm GOING! You happy—?"

"_Immensely_."

"—Humph—!" she huffs and the hologram winks out.

Silence.

It starts with a smothered snicker and faint choking sounds, but by a few seconds later Haruko is full out laughing, one hand around her stomach and the other hand in a fist banging against the table as she collapses over it.

I was hoping once Raharu was gone that sense of unreality would break but it's still running, although the ringing in my ears has toned down a little.

"Damn it Naota, this is all your fault!" Amarao suddenly growls before letting out a strangled whine, slamming his head down on the table and hiding himself with his arms.

Maybe I don't trade clever repartee with Raharu everyday, but Amarao is another matter altogether. It's practically my sole method of entertainment around here day in and day out. I'm ready to retaliate without a second thought.

I snuff, looking away as I lean back in my chair. The muscles in my shoulders start to un-tense and it almost hurts. I respond, "If you mean getting rid of Superior 'pain-in-the-ass' Raharu, then yeah, I did. No thanks to _you_." _For_-fucking-_real_.

Amarao looks up from his moping to glare at me. "No, I meant screwing us six ways to Sunday, you asshole!"

I ignore the insult, instead saying, "You know, I never really got that expression." (Bob, _go away_; your services aren't needed anymore.)

Thankfully he gets the right idiom, (I half expected him to start explaining the concept behind the word 'asshole'). Amarao shrugs, "I think it has something to do with Sunday being the day of rest when Christians go to church and there being six other days besides that…or something…maybe…I dunno."

Umm…"Even knowing that, it still doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me," I tell him, "Besides, I'm mostly an agnostic, but I practice Shinto."

Frowning in confusion, Amarao asks me: "Then how come you say 'oh god' a lot and 'god damn' and 'what the hell?'"

"Well, it doesn't have to be _that_ god in particular. Besides, those are just expressions." Yeah, I bet Satanists say those things too.

"Right, well, the fact remains that we're fucked and it's your fault," Amarao tells me before letting his head go limp to bounce against the table, "Owe-owe-ooowwwies!"

It's times like these I fear for the survival of humanity and just as quickly ignore that fear as a manifestation of denial.

Haruko's laughing calmed enough for her to say: "Wow…I don't remember you guys being this amusing…or this stupid."

I'm still too out of it to jump at her voice, but I _was_ surprised upon hearing it. She's been uncharacteristically quiet all this time. It's freaking me out.

"Haruko-san," Kitsurubami asks, turning to the pink-haired kukurian, "What can we expect from Superior Raharu in response to this?"

"Hmmmmmm, she's a cutthroat bitch twenty-four-seven sooooo I expect she'll be about the same. She's not really that imaginative," Haruko informs us apathetically, supporting her head with a hand.

"Yeah, now if Naota-kun can just do that every time she calls us up, you're covered," Atomsk says airily, "But no pressure."

"Gee thanks, I feel so relieved now that you've said that—_not really_," I inform him. I still feel weird talking to a giant bird. He's like a blazer-vision version of Big Bird. You know, what he'd look like if you watched Sesame Street while tripping bawlz.

If you don't know what blazer-vision or tripping bawlz is, don't worry about it. Your ignorance is a sign that you haven't been tainted by 'society' and 'the world' yet. Which is kind of sad, considering I know it and I came from Mabase. Really, what's that say about where you live? I leave that for you to decide.

"Yeah, I still think that was really stupid of you," Atomsk told me wryly.

I snuffed, "I could tell, you had this '_You fucking did not—Shit, you fucking did…_' look going on before it lapsed into complete despair."

"That obvious?"

"Yeah, but mostly because I was telling myself basically the same thing, and then Raharu really started pissing me off so I was like, 'you know what? Fuck it, she's a bitch anyways. This is a response to her build up of shitty karma.'"

Wiggling his eyebrows in confusion, Amarao says, "I thought you just said you were Shinto?"

I shrug, "Buddhism, Shinto, same-thing." Actually Shinto did adopt a lot of Buddhist customs. Granted it is an exaggeration.

Amarao frowns, "Karma was originally a Hindu concept."

"Hindu, Shinto, same-thing," I say mostly just to piss him off. I think Amarao is a Buddhist, although according to him it isn't a religion, it's a '_guide to directly experiencing reality_'. I'm sure Buddhism is great, I'm just equally sure Amarao hasn't gotten the knack of it yet. Or ever will.

Amarao frowns more. "Um no, they're not."

Psh. "Same enough," I declare—wait, that doesn't sound right. "I mean, close enough," I correct myself.

Amarao sighs, "You know, sometimes I think you're the smartest kid I know, and then you do something like this and I start to question." Aww, that's so nice…ish…okay, next subject.

"Did we actually have a meeting for a reason?" I ask leaning back in my chair with my arms behind my head, "Besides getting bitched at that is? As in something important?"

"Um, well," Amarao itches his head before shrugging, "I guess I'm supposed to give our legal aliens some kind of orientation and their paperwork or something but…I'm just going to give you guys your legal interstellar resident visas and send you home. Kitsurubami-san, Naota-kun, just take the rest of the day off," he said, then as an afterthought added, "And take your aliens with you."

Ha ha…that's funny.

"I feel so loved," Atomsk deadpans. It works even better because his face doesn't move. And I've yet to figure out where his eyes are.

"You'll be gagging from all the love tomorrow," I inform him, "It's a secret inspection day, which means the melodic ring of chastising shouts will echo through the halls and office cubicles." It is one of my most favorite days. Like a holiday really. Christmas or Halloween. Or something.

"Wow…I'm looking forward to it." Very sarcastic, this guy is. He seems a lot like me. But I don't think he's getting the point of Super-Secret-Inspection-Day and the joy it brings. Or maybe he's just not as vindictive as I am. _Naw._

"You can help me yell if you want to," I offer, and he perks up. Yeah, he's totally as vindictive as I am.

"Oh okay, sounds good," says Atomsk, nodding his bird-like head, voice still emanating from seemingly nowhere.

Haruko, strangely silent till now, looks to Kitsurubami and pouts, "Kiiiitsu-chaaaaaan, do we get to yell at people toooooooo?"

"Yes, we do, Haruko-san," Kisurubami tells her uncertainly.

"Do we get to give out…_punishments_?" Haruko asks eyes wide in anticipation. From where I'm sitting it's fucking frightening. Scarier than Superior Raharu could ever be, because Raharu just does shit because she's pissed off. Haruko does shit to fuck around with your head.

Kitsurubami flounders nervously, "Um…I, ah…"

"Like there was anything they could do to deserve the kind of punishment you'd dole out," I frown, (it probably boils down to a glare actually), at Haruko as I answer for Kitsurubami.

Are you sensing a little anger here? Yeah, me too. You have to remember, I'm a survivor of Haruko's patented torturing methods. So is Amarao. And just look how dysfunctional we are. And all because of Haruko. Sad ain't it?

Suddenly Haruko glares at me angrily, "What the hell happened to you? You used to be—"

"_What_?" I interrupt, "I used to be _what_?"

Silence.

Haruko's eyes narrow, and her frown deepens as our eyes lock and she glowers at me.

She growls disgustedly, pointedly turning her head away, "Ugh, forget it," she finally says, (Forget what? Maybe I shouldn't have interrupted her…), "Just forget it, Ta-kun," she repeats.

My breathing hitches. "Stop calling me that," I respond automatically, but I'm not angry, I'm mostly just miserable. I refuse to be called Ta-kun ever again.

Ta-kun is my brother and I'm not him. I don't want to be him; I don't want any relation with him. Its bad enough I have to put up with people around town comparing us. Even worse when strangers associate our surnames with each other and come up with the conclusion we're related. And Christmas is hell, when he comes over and he has his _perfect_ family and his _perfect_ job…

It's like I can't have anything that's just mine. And I want to hate him, but I don't. That's maybe the worst part about it all.

She rounds on me, spitting with rage. "I can call you whatever the hell I want_, TA-KUN_!"

"Fine," I'm depressed now. For once in my life I don't want to argue and set her straight. "Then call me whatever you want, as long as it isn't Ta-kun," I say.

Haruko isn't glaring at me anymore; she's just looking at me cryptically. I feel like she's searching my soul, when something just seems to click into place. She frowns but the heat is gone.

"Oh, that's how it is," she sighs, "Shit, I really wanted to be pissed off at you, you know? Whatever. Got any other nicknames?"

Oh my god. Haruko being reasonable? Call the police! It's an imposter! Oh wait, I'm sort of the police. Ha ha…

Blink. "Everyone mostly just calls me Naota-kun around here." That they do.

She leans back in her chair with her arms behind her head, crossing her ankles with her feet on the table. I can just _feel_ Amarao having fits. For her part, Haruko looks at me disgustedly, "That's _lame_! I can't call you _that_. What the hell happened to creativity,_sheesh_."

I'm probably going to regret saying this but…"Make up whatever you want," I tell her exasperatedly.

More silence.

She narrows her eyes at me again like she's looking inside my heart. "You really _don't_ care what I call you as long as it's not Ta-kun, huh?"

"That's what I said, wasn't it?" Yup, already regretting it.

"A man who says what he means—ha! Good joke, kid." I feel my face heating up. Crap, I can't even remember the last time I blushed. She ignores me, or so I assume. "Meh, I bet I could think of something worse than Ta-kun," she says.

I doubt that, Ta-kun has a significance that transcends rhetoric.

"You _know_ why I don't like it," I say, and suddenly realize it's true. Out of all the people who've agreed not to call me Ta-kun, none of the really knew understood why.

But Haruko does.

"Yeah, I guess I do," she agrees, "Well, you did bitch Raharu out a minute ago; I guess you've earned some slack." She tilts her head and a sprouts a feral grin, "So let's seeeeeeeeeee, how-a-bout-I-call-yoooooou…Nao-chaaaannnnnn! Yay!" Oh, like that's any more creative than Naota-kun! Damn hypocrite.

"How come _he_ gets a nickname!" Amarao whines. I blink back into reality enough to realize I'd forgotten anyone else was here. Or where here even_was_.

"Cuz Naota grew up into a MAAANN!" _Oh. My. God_. Kill me now.

It is _really_ hot in here, you know? I'm burning up. I hope I spontaneously combust and burn down to smoldering embers before disintegrating into ashy dust. And then my molecules undergo deterioration, spout gamma rays and break apart into their various electrons, protons and neutrons. And then those in turn break down into quarks. And the quarks break down into vibrating strings of energy. And then those strings of energy release their power and explode.

The fact I'm still breathing proves that wishful thinking is a _lie_! A _lie_ I tell you!

Amarao ignores the fact that all the blood in my body is going towards my face. "And _I_ didn't?" he complains. _Shut up Amarao! Stop enabling her!_

"If you don't get it, then you don't deserve a kickass nickname like Nao-chan," Haruko informs his snootily.

"Who doesn't get it?" Amarao asks, "_I_ get it! _I_ can get anything _he_ can get!" I don't even think he even knows what it is he's supposed to get. Much less what it means. His macho shit is really starting to piss me off.

"Haha, Nao-chan, you're _bluuuushing_," (_Shit, she saw that.)_ "Maybe I'm wrong about you being a man. You still a virgin Nao-chan?" (_I think my eyeballs just exploded; I sure hope so anyways._) "Huh? You AREN'T? Oh, who was it! Anyone I know? I bet it was Ninamori-san, huh-huh?" (_Where is she getting this shit?!_), "I think I'm riight. Oooowah! Nao-chan and Eri did the Fooly-Cooly! Furi-kuri-furi-kuri-furikurai! Furikurah! Ooowah!"

"_Shut_ _up…!_" I growl urgently.

Haruko mimics an exaggerated startle reaction and pretends to be shocked, "_Gasp_! He tells us not to speak! But he doesn't say no! That means YES!"

_What!?_ "Stop! We—"

"You don't deny it because it's TRUUUUUEEEE!" God how I wish I could say no right now. Fuck my dad for naming me Naota, he doomed me to this. I'm honest to the core. Brutally honest.

"What the hell do you want from me?" I ask, more like grimace. It's a stalling tactic and we both know it.

She stabs her finger at me judgingly. "I want the TRUTH!"

Blink. I think I've seen this movie before. "Is this where I say, '_you can't handle the truth'_?" Unfortunately I'm pretty sure she _can_ handle the truth. In fact, she wants to handle it. A little too much. Hell, way too much.

"Don't mock me, mister!" she snarls and her form is suddenly covered in shadows, her eyes glowing red, hand reaching towards her guitar with the implication being that ignoring her warning will result in probable injury. Haruko, unlike Raharu, knows when she is being made fun of.

"This is private information…" I mutter. Since when did her ultimate goal in life be to humiliate me? Oh wait, stupid question, that's always been her ultimate goal in life. Forget I asked.

"Of course it's_private_! It's _Fooly Cooly_!"

_Furi…Kuri…_I can feel myself starting to twitch.

"What the hell is Fooly Cooly?!" Amarao exclaims.

Haruko smirks, "Just another thing you'll never understand in a million years, Taro!" She turns back to me expectantly.

"We were together for a while," I admit, "But we're not anymore, we're just friends."

"_What!"_ Amarao yells. He probably feels cheated. He's been trying to tease me about Ninamori for years. "How come you never told _me?_"

I frown, "Why the hell would I tell _you_? You're my _boss_. Besides it was a long time ago. Like the end of high school. I _hated_ you, remember?" _I still kind of hate him…_

"But you don't hate me anymore, right? Right?" _Nope, still hate you Amarao._

"When you're not acting like this, no," I tell him, giving him a look meant to advise him to calm down and stop being irritating. I'm too nice for my own good.

"And aren't I more than just your boss?" He whimpers.

I can't help it, I snuff. "Yeah, you're that weird stalker guy that hired me to be his secretary and now he can't get anything done unless I'm there to hold his hand." Hey, he asked the question.

Amarao's lip quivers like he's going to cry behind his sun shades. Why is he still wearing those by the way? "That really hurts Naota-kun…" Oh man, I think he's actually sad…This is like Takinori all over again. Amarao is freaking emo.

This is making me uncomfortable…"Jeez, I'm just kidding," I tell him in what I hope is a pacifying voice, "You always have to take everything so personally..." He _really_ does. He's like a freaking girl that way. No offence, girls.

Now Haruko butts back in again, somehow getting in my face from across the table. "So, what? You wanted more Fooly Cooly than she was willing to give?"

Not this again. "What the _hell_…"

She grins. "He won't answer: that's a YES!"

"_No_! That's a _no_. We just aren't compatible; we're just enough alike that our differences get on each others nerves. It was a mutual breaking-up thing."

"But you're still friends with _benefits_, right?" At benefits she wiggled her eyebrows up and down suggestively.

"What? _No_! At least, not how _you're_ making it out to be…" Eri's the one getting all the benefits if you ask me.

"Then like how?" I think she expects me to give her juicy details. To bad for her it's nothing as savory as what she's thinking. Haruko and her dirty mind. Seriously, Fooly Cooly is all that goes on inside her head.

"She's a reporter; sometimes I give her our exclusives." But only because she bothers me until I do. Never underestimate Eri. She gets what she wants, no mater what. Plus, she's more vindictive then I will ever manage to be. Forgive but never forget is right.

"And what do _you_ get out of it?" Haruko asks me. Why am I even answering her questions? Oh, the Rickenbacker bass strapped behind her back, riight…

I snuff automatically, "Heck if I know. A life of misery?" _Seriously_.

She shakes her head while chuckling, "Haha! Good ol' Ninamori…" I can't believe she even remembers everybody…

Narrowing my eyes, I look at her suspiciously. "Why do you care, anyways?"

She brushes off the question—"Why do you think? So who are you going out with right now?"—and goes straight back into the interrogation…

"_Nobody_!" I say indignantly, and I don't even know why. Like it's any of her business, anyways!

"What about Sameji? Weren't you guys like married or something?"

_I am so sick of people saying that._ "_No_. Mamimi lives in Okinawa, she's a freelance photographer."

"Oh come on…you got to have your eye on _somebody_…"

"I don't!" Why is she making me feel bad? I can like someone if I want to! Why does she care?

"What, you a workaholic or something? Don't you have any hobbies? Play any sports?"

I think for a second. Do video games count as a hobby? "I played tennis in high school," I answer after a second. Tennis: the only sport I'm good at. Suck at baseball, mildly okay at tennis. Go Figure. I mean they have the same mechanism; _swinging_. How can you be good at one and suck ass at the other? Fuck if I know. If you find out give me a call. I'd like to know.

"He played in college, too!" Amarao says proudly, as if _he'd_ been the one to do it and not me.

"It's not a big deal or anything…" Yeah, so I made the college team, it's not like I was pro.

"Apparently _nothing_ is a big deal to you," Atomsk injects suddenly; I'd forgotten he was there again. But what's he getting at? Oh wait, I apparently saved his ass ten years ago, and I just said it was no problem. I was being _polite_ when I said that, meaning like, I'd do it any time because I'm a nice person that believes in the sanctity of life, it wasn't not a measure on how much his life is worth or anything like that… Man, leave no good dead unpunished and all that…

But other than that,_jeez_. So it takes a lot to get me excited. Big. Whoop.

I just shrug, "I guess not." _Excuse me_ if after saving the world from a baseball shaped bomb when I was twelve, I find it hard to rank being on a tennis team as particularly grandiose. I'm _sorry_ about that, okay?

"What, hot college tennis-player chicks not good enough for you?" Haruko asks me and it sounds strangely hostile. What's her problem? Besides I was on the _men's_ team, the only time I saw the girls was at tournaments and if they were using the courts before or after or during our practices. Which was a lot of the time…

Okay so I saw the women's tennis team a lot. I ask again: what do you people want from me?

A ridiculous idea came to me.

I stare at Haruko. "Why? Are you…jealous?" I think my brain just shattered.

She scoffs and looks all haughty and indignant. "_Jealous_? You're _kidding_, right?"

_My brain is dead. My brain is dead. My brain is dead…_

"She won't answer: that means _yes_!" I mimic her automatically, without even thinking.

The outcry is inevitable. "_Noooo_!" She whines, "You can't _coopy meeee_! _Copieer_!" She jumps on the table in a crouch, then stabs a finger at me while her other hand is reaching for her Rickenbacker. "Get your own phrases or _die_!" she threatens.

"But why should I go to the trouble of making up my own when I can just use yours?" I say. I told you my brain is dead. Think there's a warranty? I don't think the almighty creator will let me trade mine in for a new one even if I show him a birth certificate…

Her eyes narrow, "You'll never be Fooly Cooly enough, kid," she growls, "I fucking _invented_ Fooly Cooly!"

"I believe it." I can't even show the Kami an MRI, X-ray or CAT-scan image of my brain because the only time I ever had one, was when I went to the hospital when I was twelve when Haruko was here, and my N.O. channel sucks in matter so when they took the photograph, it looked like my brain was missing.

"Damn _straight_ you believe it!" She says voice full of fervor.

"_Okay_!" Amarao suddenly interrupts and Haruko and I both turn our heads to look at him, "Weren't you guys leaving?" he asks.

_Huh? Who, me? Since when?_

"Kitsurubami?" _Oh_._ Now that makes a little more sense. But still, since when?_

At being addressed Kitsurubami blinks, as if she just realized that she was involved. I think this is the second time this has happened today; the other time being with Raharu addressing her earlier. See what I'm talking about with the themes?

"I uh…" She stutters, and I can't blame her for getting engrossed. If I was on the outside looking in, I would probably feel differently than I do right now. Actually maybe not. This situation is like the storyline to every lame chick-flick on the planet. That is to say, all of them.

Amarao realizes he's getting no feedback from his Field Commander. "Atomsk?" he says turning to the only other not involved person in the room. Or person-like…thing in the room.

"No, I was watching this. It's pretty entertaining." Atomsk says nodding to himself.

"_Atomsk?"_ Amarao says a little more forcefully. Uh-oh, he's gone all FBI/CSI/Whatever-acronym-I on him. Nobody can withstand those vibes. Not even politicians.

Atomsk suddenly shrugs. "But I mean we can go now, that's fine too." Haha. He sure changed his tune fast.

Oh wait; if he leaves I have to go with him.

I look at my watch and realize I've wasted another half hour here when I had permission from my boss to leave. Shit. What the hell am I doing hanging around here getting interrogated for? Stupid brain. It never fucking works right.

"Yeah, if we go now we can beat most of the rush hour traffic." I say and start getting out of my chair, "My apartment is half-way between here and Mabase."

Haruko smirks; she's still standing on the table by the way."Got your own apartment, huh? Where you Fooly Cooly? Is it sound proof?"

I roll my eyes, "I_wish_." Not for the reason thinks though. The family below me has four year old triplets and a really expensive surround sound system. If you are not getting it yet, then I'll explain it to you in a way you should understand: can you say the Barney Song at ear-bleed volume? Of course it wouldn't be Barney it would be something else, kids today watch different yet equally retarded things, but whatever. Hehe, Atomsk is living with me. _Sucker!_

"Get off the table Raharu," Amrao says, but she completely ignores him.

"Ooooooo!" Haruko teases.

"Weren't you two_going_? Hm?" Amarao says again. His Eyebrows are twitching at the sight of someone standing on the table.

"Yeah, okay. Let's go. See you guys tomorrow." I say and me and Atomsk walk out of the room.

* * *

Reviews! Thank you everyone who reviewed!

**Tipsyr** you wanted more, you got it! Took kind of awhile though, sorry about that. Hope you enjoy it, and that I continue to capture the people well! I'm still worried about doing Haruko right, tell me if I did okay please!

**Caladchbolg**, here's your update!** Uniquewriter**, I'm glad you like the sarcasm! Hehe, it only gets thicker and thicker, I'm telling you that Naota has got a definite caustic streak.

**Bunny Hood Bombchu** Woohoo! You love it? That makes my day! Especially since your is one of the few totally-super-special-awesome FLCL fanfics out there, I'm honored! And mwahaha, wait till you see what guitar she pulls out of Naota's head! I dunno if it trumps the Rickenbacker in smexiness, but it's nothing to sneeze at.

**Galasbad**, I dunno if it's that well thought out, I watched the anime a couple more times and saw things I missed that sort of counter act things I put in the first chapter but I plan on elevating those so we'll see how it goes. And yeah, I like Atomsk too. He hasn't really gotten a chance to develop much yet but he will. I've already got certain things planned.

**Impact-Megaton**, whoa, this is your favorite? Out of all the stories on Wow, that's amazing.I'd be hard pressed to choose a favorite myself. Once again, I'm honored. You guys are so nice to me. A little more Atomsk and Haruko and a whole lot more Naota, tell me if I've lived up to the standards of chapters one and two please1


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